


Do Over

by gregorin_greymalkin



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dubious Consent, M/M, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Underage, Penis Size, Rimming, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Submissive Scott Summers, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 13:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gregorin_greymalkin/pseuds/gregorin_greymalkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry McCoy’s latest mutation brings out the animal in Beast. Cyclops takes the brunt of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do Over

Later, it had helped for Henry McCoy to remember that he had told Scott to keep away. That he was never quite himself for three days after so violent a change, and less himself than ever when his long-term girlfriend had just dumped him because sex with him now counted as bestiality. But Scott, as always, had thought he knew best. He was the one who thought that the way for Henry to get through those three days of adjustment was to come with Scott on a mission, just the two of them. Henry had tried to explain how it felt to be like this, to have changed from an ape-man to a lion-man, to have these primordial impulses throbbing through him that were not just strange and terrifying but _intoxicating_. To want to go and chase down prey and rip out its throat. To want to kill, want to mate. Three days and everything would settle down again, but right now, he really wasn’t safe to be around.

Logan would have got it, but Scott -- lacking an inner beast -- had too many gaps in his comprehension. He might dimly be able to grasp that Logan pumped out too much testosterone and that half the time it was his over-active sex-drive that made him so murky, ill-tempered, and prone to drown himself in beer, but he could not grasp it of Hank McCoy. Not good old Hank, steady, reliable friend of his adolescence, and a genius to boot. Hank was too smart to be a creature of his id, and Scott was too rational to be a slave to hormones. A mission, he insisted, was just what Hank needed to take his mind off things, And, feeling simultaneously like a junkie sweating for his next fix, a serial killer salivating for his next victim, and an animal in the mating season, hungering to find something in heat, Hank had been desperate for a distraction. That was why he had made the mistake of listening to Scott.

Really, looking back the problem had started in the Blackbird. In such a confined space, that odor coming off him, like the lion enclosure at feeding time, had been impossible to miss. And it wasn’t just scent, of course, it was a sense-shower of pheromones. Scott had been sniffing and then inhaling and they had been sitting much too close, pilot seat to co-pilot seat. With so many impulses throbbing through him, Henry hadn’t been quick enough to realize that the urge to mate was getting the better of him, or that Scott kept leaning toward him to have another sniff, or that, as the journey continued, Scott became more and more quiet and subdued. Neither of them had realized then that Scott’s most basic brain -- the subconscious part that did nothing but try to keep him alive in the midst of insanity -- had already assessed the situation and recognized what Henry was -- a dangerous animal in search of subordinates and cub-breeders, who would brook no opposition. That part of Scott’s brain had already been working overtime even as Scott was piloting the Blackbird, responding to those pheromones and sending out subliminal messages that he needed to be receptive and obedient, and, above all, that he wanted to submit to the primal pack leader that was shortly going to claim him for a mate. Unfortunately, in doing so it also tapped into the submissive inner man within Scott, whom he kept concealed beneath his crisply perfected surface, because beneath the confident team-leader lived a little orphan boy lost who would accept any abuse from a loved one as long as it came with some affection also, and beneath the man who gave the orders lived the insecure boy who wanted someone else to take charge. There was also, of course, his sleeping masochist. The one who wanted to be mastered and forced to obey.

By the time they reached the place Scott wanted to investigate -- a warehouse that was supposed to be empty but was sucking so much power from the grid it had to be used for something -- Henry was very uncomfortable in his own skin and a blizzard had blown up out of nowhere, reducing visibility to almost zero. Scott flew them into a safe landing in a snow drift on his dash readings and sheer instinct, but although it was now so bitterly cold outside, Henry still felt as if he was burning up with the need to…something. The weird impulses were getting stronger and he wasn’t sure he was safe around humans. It didn’t occur to him, then, that he might also not be safe around Scott.

Scott had assumed the people using the warehouse were making Sentinels, because the company who owned the warehouses had been investors in the Sentinel program, but it turned out -- after they had landed in that snow bank, then struggled through deep drifts out of sheer bloody minded cussedness because they had come this far and they were _going_ to investigate -- that the warehouse was being used to grow marijuana, hence the tin foil and soaring heat-readings. Scott didn’t kill humans, even when they were drug-dealers with semi-automatics, but drug-dealers had no compunction about killing him. Henry had realized how imperfect was his control over his new mutation, when Scott’s use of carefully measured optic blasts that only knocked the bad guys out, earned him a vicious attempted murder by bullet-riddling, that he only evaded because he threw himself aside at the last second. Scott had unleashed his optic blast to take out the angry gunmen, but Henry was already seeing red. A lion had roared and he had found himself hurling men aside like ragdolls, hungering for their throats.

Scott had grabbed him and shouted his name, and Henry had snarled at him furiously, like Logan in the grip of a berserker rage, and Scott’s face in that instant, as they were pressed together much too close in the dark corner of an overheated firing range, flashlit by gunfire and deafened by percussion echoes, when Henry roared, had registered a groin-thrilling mixture of terror, wonder, and sheer visceral excitement. That was when Henry had realized that both he and Scott wanted to see the lion unleashed. He had grabbed Scott, thrown him over his shoulder, and flung them both out through a window, rolling to avoid the stuttering turf-tear of gunfire, as men poured out after them, wanting them dead.

They had run through the blizzard, both of them acknowledging that Henry wasn’t safe around enemies right now. ‘A danger to himself and others’ pretty much fitted him like a glove. And Scott had kept sniffing and Henry had found Scott’s scent much in need of being smeared with his. He felt an urgent need to rub himself all over him, and then realized that ‘over’ wasn’t enough. He wanted to claim him completely. It was just bad luck for Scott that he was the only friendly face around at a time when all of Henry’s new confusing instincts were telling him he needed to gather a pride around himself, kill off any rivals, and then begin to father his cubs. 

Spitting out a mouthful of snow, Henry said, “Three days, Scott! I told you I needed to be by myself for three days so I could get to grips with what I am now. Because the truth is I don’t _know_ what I am right now, except that it’s horribly dangerous and not under my control.”

Scott said, “It’s too late to do anything about that now, Hank. They’ve cut us off from the Blackbird. We need to seek shelter somewhere they won’t find us before we get too cold to function. Survival is our priority.”

Henry grabbed him by the front of his uniform and shook him, vicious jolting shakes, then pulled him up so their mouths were level. He suspected his eyes were wildly glowing and he could hear for himself that his voice was a deep, raging roar: “Listen to what I’m saying to you, Scott. _I’m not safe_. If those men get too close I will kill them. I will kill them all with my bare hands. And you’re not safe with me either.”

Scott, imperviously maddening leader of the X-Men, leaned in and sniffed him, and his face got a drowsy dreamscape look about it. He inhaled Henry like he was a hookah full of hashish and then tried to curl in against him, softly as burning paper. He said, “I always feel safe with you, Hank.”

Henry swallowed hard. “I’m putting out pheromones. Animal-strength ones. They’re muddying both our thinking to the point where neither of us is sane. We should separate.” But he said the last without conviction, because already he found his grip was tightening on Scott’s tight, body-hugging costume, and all he wanted to do was rip it off him, right here in the snow, and hungrily mouth his skin. He looked at Scott’s mouth and it was beautiful, his nose, his mouth, his jaw, his throat. He had a sudden memory of a month since: Scott in the shower, nothing to think twice about, just good old Scotty in the shower. But now he remembered how the water had cascaded over his body and poured down his shoulders and spine, and his high, firm little ass cheeks….

Gunfire broke them apart; Scott stepping back like someone had slapped him out of a trance. Henry’s protective instincts roared up and there was no way he was letting Scott out of his sight when there was danger, but he could feel himself that it wasn’t a _good_ protective instinct. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep him safe from harm. It was that he wanted to keep him alive to swell his pride. Scott was Henry’s prize possession, the only thing out here that was his. He wanted to claim him and scent-mark him before those other potential rivals caught up with them, but most of all he wanted to teach Scott that Henry was his pack leader and plant his cubs inside him.

Henry said urgently, “You’re not safe with me, Scott! And you’re getting less safe every minute. This latest mutation…it’s nothing like under my control.” _I will make beast babies with you, over and over again, if you don’t get away from me now_. 

Scott stepped back toward him even as the air filled with gunfire and shouting as their pursuers drew closer, and he already looked half-hypnotized. “I trust you, Hank.”

“Don’t you get it?” He grabbed him by the shoulders again. “I’m _not_ Hank. I won’t be Hank again for three more days. Right now, what I am…is a beast.”

That was when the gunfire had stuttered way too close to their heads and Scott had stepped back, lost his footing on the treacherous snow, somersaulting backwards down a steep incline into a racing, icy river, hitting his head on a log as he did so. Henry had hurled himself down the bank after him, and thrown himself into the freezing rapids, just in time to grab Scott’s uniform in a desperate three-fingered blue hand. They had gone under the log bridge together, Henry trying to keep Scott’s head above water as the ice-swollen torrent did its best to drown them, and been carried downstream at breath-stealing speed.

By the time Henry managed to drag Scott to the bank and clamber out, both of them dripping, the gunfire was far more distant, the Blackbird even more so, and Scott was unconscious, and turning blue with cold. High above them, Henry could see a cave. He made for it at a loping run. The beast was roaring in him now, he could feel that the adrenaline rush of being shot at, of others trying to take one of his own away from him, and then dragging Scott from the water had amped up his animal instincts. Scott was utterly his now -- he had just saved his life, and his fury at being chased by inferior animals was making him even more dangerous. Scott was a shivering lightweight in his arms, negligible and vital at once; his own wishes of no consequence, his importance to Henry as one of his possessions paramount. He could feel how little of Henry McCoy there was at the forefront of his mind right now. Pursuit by men with guns and that adrenaline-spiking rescue of Scott from the river had suppressed everything but the basic and this last thin shred of reason and compassion. If he took Scott into that cave, just the two of them alone in there, bad things were going to happen. If he didn’t take him into the cave, Scott was going to die of cold. Scott was shivering convulsively in his arms, blood trickling from that cut on his forehead. It was the old Henry McCoy that gathered him to him, remembering too many other occasions when Scott had been vulnerable and hurt and in need of saving. 

“It’s men with guns, hypothermia, or me,” he said aloud. Reason grimly fighting instinct and losing the battle as Scott smelled like something that belonged to him to do with exactly as he wished. “I won’t kill him as long as he doesn’t resist me. Given the pheromones, he probably won’t resist me. Every other option spells certain death. Ergo his only hope of survival is being trapped in a cave with a hungry, lustful, unreasoning beast.”

With Scott carried tightly in his arms, Henry ran for the cave.

 

In the cave, Henry had to work fast to get Scott out of his clothes. He was shivering violently, teeth chattering, skin bluing fast. A fire would give them away, but he had to get him warm somehow. He looked deathly, freezing to the touch, shuddering convulsively in his grip.

He stripped off the last clothing -- Scott’s sodden white underpants -- and gathered him into his arms, enfolding him in his blue furry bulk and rubbing his back. It was not unlike cuddling an iced-up Bobby at first, no pleasure at all. But then as Hank kept breathing on his skin to warm it and rubbing to keep the blood circulating, the convulsions finally began to lessen a little. He kept stroking his skin, steady, soothing strokes to keep the blood flowing and warm him back up and Scott went from a dripping, shivering thing to warmer and more supple, albeit one utterly drenched in Henry McCoy’s new leonine scent and dominant alpha male pheromones. Henry kept breathing on his skin to warm it and stroking him and rubbing him and keeping him wrapped in the warm furry strength of his arms, and slowly Scott’s shivering subsided and he gave a little sigh of awakening.

“Scott…? How do you feel?”

He waited for Scott to react to the fact that they were naked, and that Scott was very up close and personal with Hank’s new and still-strange latest mutation, and pull back in embarrassment. But apparently they had been friends for too long for Scott to feel any embarrassment, or else he was still slightly off his head with hypothermia or the pheromones were completely clouding his thinking. It was hard to tell.

"I’m so cold and you’re so warm….” Scott burrowed in against him, trying to keep Hank’s warmth pressed against him, wriggling and shifting so that he was better encompassed by his grasp. He rested his head on Hank’s shoulder and wriggled even closer, effectively climbing onto his lap to do it. Things at Hank’s groin level began to stir. He wondered if he could blame that on his latest mutation or if the Henry he had been before would have reacted in the same way; perhaps lion-like sex organs were more omnivorous than ape-like ones. They were undoubtedly larger. 

Scott was rocking a little, the way children did to comfort themselves in the arms of someone they trusted; unfortunately he was doing it while straddling Hank’s new and all too over-exciteable lap. Wanting to get warm, Scott wrapped his legs around Henry’s lower back, meaning that his rocking made his opening brush tantalizingly across Henry’s hardening groin. 

“Scott….” He swallowed hard. “That might not be the best idea you ever had. This mutation is still very…new to me. Think of it like driving a strange vehicle where you don’t know where all the gears are yet. Especially the brakes.”

Scott didn’t always do too well with metaphors but Henry would have thought even he could understand why reckless acceleration when they were both naked and he was three hundred and fifty pounds of blue-furred gorilla-lion with very tenuous control was not a good idea. But Scott only wriggled in against him, still rocking, and burrowed into his neck needily. Scott murmured drowsily, “I still feel safe with you, Hank.”

Gritting his teeth as his cock filled up in response to those maddening little brushes of Scott’s bare ass crack tantalizing its tip, Henry said, “Scott, I don’t care how damn safe you feel, you’re not. You’re horribly _un_ safe with me. I don’t have much control over this mutation as yet, and if you keep doing that I am going to get rough with you in ways that we will both regret….”

Sounding far too much like a child unused to being naughty but trying it out for a dare, Scott said breathlessly, “I always wondered what it would be like with you after you changed the first time, and now I’ll never know. That two versions of Hank I never got to do it with.”

Dry-mouthed, Henry said, “Third time’s the charm? Is that what you’re thinking, Scott?”

Scott was still wriggling and rocking against him and Henry’s new cock was now stiff as a post, and yes, he wanted to be wanted by someone in this new body. He wanted to feel desirable and sexually alluring and not just like a freak. But he felt like a humvee poised on a sharp downhill gradient. If he took off the handbrake he was afraid of what happened next; too much momentum and he didn’t think he knew any way to stop. “Are you sure you’re not just off your head with hypothermia, Scotty?”

“Warming up nicely now,” Scott murmured shyly. “Just really…curious, Hank. Would it matter if we did this…? Would it really be…wrong?”

Would he rip out his throat after he’d fucked him? He didn’t know. That was why they could not do this, however much Henry’s new mutation thought it was no more than his right. “Not wrong, no. Perhaps, however, fatally unwise, at least for you. If we start down that path, I don’t think there is any stopping me.”

Yet even as he said it, that regretful tone of someone too sensible and rational to let this foolishness go any further, Henry realized how much he needed someone to make him feel comfortable in this uncomfortably unfamiliar body. He wanted that desperately. It was just that his new impulses weren’t under his control yet. He couldn’t be sure of himself or what he might do if he let the lion out. 

He pushed Scott off his lap and onto his back on the soft leaf carpet of the cave and kissed him, his own hunger taking them both by surprise. Scott responded passively at first – just opening his mouth so Henry could push his tongue in with hard, demanding pulses that shocked him a little. As he plundered Scott’s mouth, he could feel the leonine brain working that had not been there before, the lord of the jungle arrogance that wanted to take Scott hard and brutally fast. He realized he was even less at one with this mutation than he had thought; there were dark undercurrents to it he had not yet got anything like under control. There was a new animal within him and it had not been melded enough with his human consciousness to be even close to…safe. He suspected it was the animal that was calling to Scott; probably some residual feline pheromones being pumped out, confident lion to shy, stray housecat, that was feeding straight from id to id. For whatever reason, Scott was much too responsive to animal dominance, no resistance at all, spreading his legs for him and opening his mouth obligingly, a little surprised by the breathless depth of Henry’s kisses, and the bruising grip of his fingers, but in no way resistant.

Henry was losing control, had already lost far too much of it in the warehouse and the river and no longer had enough of it left to negotiate his way through sex in a cave with someone of such woefully limited experience as Scott; he was exerting enough of a rein on his basic needs to stop himself snarling or claw-flexing, but he was hungrily aroused and had not yet found the buttons he needed to switch to have command of himself. He had been thinking they needed to stop this now when he thrust his tongue deep into Scott’s mouth, and realized it wasn’t enough. He needed to fill his mouth and his throat. Needed him to submit until his knees were sore with it. It was terrifying and exhilarating at once, to feel so filled with basic power, so hungrily, arrogantly, in charge. The humvee was running away from him now and he was no longer even wanting to brake. Kneeling over Scott, he closed a blue-furred hand in his hair and pulled him up after him, as he shifted backwards on his quarters until he had his back against the cave wall and a naked Scott stumbling on his hands and knees after him.

Even then, even as he pulled Scott’s mouth down onto the head of his engorged, leaking cock, he thought Scott would refuse and he would let him go. Instead Scott let his head be pushed down and opened his mouth, shocked but comprehending, and Henry realized even as that spluttering warmth closed over his aching glans that his fingers had made no attempt to slacken on Scott’s soft hair or respond to Scott’s uncertainty, but were still relentlessly pushing him forward. Once again, he felt the terror and excitement of realizing that he wasn’t in charge. Nor was Scott. Some snarling inner beast that had not yet melded with his consciousness was running this show, and it was still holding Scott hard by the hair and ruthlessly pushing his mouth onto his cock in rough, rhythmic jerks. 

The excitement of it was incredible, the tiger-by-the-tail disassociation like something from a dream: half nightmare of all his worst fears of losing control and reverting to the animal inside mingled with every dark sexual fantasy he would never have dared own to in his human shape. He was making Scott suck him off, sputtering and clumsy, jaw aching with the effort of accommodating something so large, and -- as Henry thrust deeper -- probably back of the throat bruising, his three-fingered hand still clamped mercilessly to the back of Scott’s head, but Scott wasn’t trying to pull back; he was keeping his mouth open, even as his gag reflex kept kicking in, and doing his best to relax his throat. Henry was slamming his head roughly over his shaft, making him take it deep and fast and Scott was doing his inexperienced best to comply. For a few minutes the sounds were glorious, that rapid flesh-slapping and Scott’s spluttering incompetent willingness to receive what he was being given in choking, sucking gasps. Henry came hard in Scott’s mouth, emptied himself down his throat in a spine-arcing pleasure pulse that made him tighten his grip on his hair and haul him up until Henry’s balls were bruising his lips, forcing him to swallow every drop.

He pulled out and waited for clarity to come back, bringing self-loathing with it, but although Scott was coughing and gasping and choking on his hands and knees in front of him, there was no remorse. Henry still had all his animal needs and his bright, animal confidence. In fact the beast was hungrier than ever now it had tasted orgasm, craving more. Henry pulled Scott onto his lap with a rough jerk of the upper arms that was going to leave bone-deep bruises and Scott straddled him, still wheezing for breath. When Henry kissed him, hard, Scott melted like a milkmaid at the lord of the manor’s first rough kiss, and it was intoxicating -- tasting himself, feeling Scott’s throat still working convulsively as he tried to breathe around the bruising, feeling his submission, all feeding the beast within. Henry pressed his fingers to his slender neck and said, “Can you feel that?”

Scott said breathlessly, “Yes.” And his voice was a muffled whisper from the rough cocksucking he’d been obliged to provide having punished his vocal cords. It made them both hot to hear it. Henry kissed him again, deep and hard, and Scott wriggled on his lap, setting up his needy rocking again, blindly submitting to whatever it was that Henry’s last mutation was pumping out, drugging them both.

Henry said in a harsh whisper into Scott’s ear, “Have you ever had it up the ass before, Scotty?”

Scott gave a breathless little pant of longing. “No.”

“Then you’ll be good and tight.”

Scott offered a choked little wail of need and fear and Henry sucked hard at his throat, making him shiver and moan as Henry’s fingers bruised him and his teeth pressed hard against the soft skin of his throat. He flipped him down onto the cave floor on his hands and knees, licked down his spinal column then spat between his firm high ass cheeks, working the spit in with his tongue, tasting soap, far too much soap and no taste of Scott at all. He growled chestily with frustration and painted precome up the back of his thighs and between that taut little butt with the tip of his oozing cock, his big hairy hands spanning his ass easily as he worked him open with fingers and tongue. 

“No noise,” Henry warned and it didn’t even sound like him, that guttural Wolverine snarl that came straight from the id. “However much it hurts, I don’t want to hear a sound from you, Scott.” They were not sending out any sound beacons. It wasn’t even because there were men with guns looking for them now, it was that Scott was his possession and he wasn’t sharing him with other pleasure-seekers or even witnesses. If _anyone_ \-- friend or foe -- stepped across the threshold of that cave right now, he would rip him to pieces for even seeing Scott naked. _This must be how it feels like to be Logan_ , he thought, and had no idea, in that moment, if he pitied him or envied him for it.

He pushed his meaty tip into Scott’s tight little hole and Scott whimpered pitifully but straddled to receive him. It hurt him, making him ache and stretch cruelly, and it was terrible in that moment how much they both relished it, this proof of Henry’s superior size and strength, and Scott’s breath-sobbing submission. Henry grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled Scott’s head back to hold him still as he pushed on in, Scott groaning with the pain of it, stretching to receive it, every meaty, blood-filled inch making itself felt as it slid brutally home. He was trying not to wail but there were sounds escaping and Henry clasped a huge hand across his mouth, stifling every snagged whimper as he pushed on in. 

“You’re going to take every inch of me like a good little whore, Scotty,” he breathed harshly in his ear, heart hammering with the exhilaration of how badly they were both behaving, the animal flexing gloriously while Scott responded to it still, like they were nothing but beasts here, dominant and submissive, as nature intended.

He pushed in deep and Scott moaned into his hand, licking it appeasingly, and straddled to accommodate his cock, and moaned and straddled again with each rough shove. Henry worked his way in quite brutally and Scott bent himself lower, keeping his ass up submissively, shoulders down like a supplicant to a cruel god, whimpering, puppy-like, as Hank kept that hold on his hair so he couldn’t wriggle forward and escape his bruising cock.

Henry made Scott impale himself on the last two inches himself, voice a quiet warning: “Push back. Do it.”

Scott did, sobbing with the pain of it, as Henry’s hugely thick shaft hurt him in every direction; loving how much he was not having to be in charge at a primordial groin-pulsing level even as he whimpered piteously. By the time Henry’s balls slapped hard against his ass cheeks, his untried little hole cruelly stretched, Scott was a panting, sweating, pain-spiked thing, abject and brutalized and utterly acquiescent to every abuse.

Henry said, “Say it.”

Scott whispered, “Fuck me, please, Hank.”

Henry grabbed Scott’s sodden underpants and tied a knot in them then pushed the knot into his mouth and gagged him, tying the wet cotton behind his head. It proved a wise precaution. He pulled out and slammed in and Scott screamed into the gag, which muffled it down to an animal sound, just something one might hear in a forest where things prowled and pounced. Henry spit-fucked him with rough, deep strokes, each one earning another choked scream, as he worked him open with brutal thoroughness until Scott’s bruised throat was wrecked from sobbing, and Henry had him slicked with enough precome that he could get a good hard rhythm going that slammed the breath from Scott’s body and painted black bruises on his ass and knees.

He had never fucked anyone like this before – not up the ass, not this hard, not this selfishly, and never with this glorious, animal disregard for any wants but his own. He pounded Scott mercilessly and Scott took it and took it, like it was all he was fit for, like Henry honored him with every savage thrust. Henry sped up until he was pistoning into him, animal fast and hard, the slam-slam-slam so rapid that his thrusts were too fast to count while Scott clutched and clawed at the ground, body reverberating from the impact like road kill dancing to a pile driver, and let out muffled keening wails. He yanked Scott’s head back savagely as he deep-dicked him to the hilt, balls bruising Scott’s pounded ass. Hard. Deep. Hard. Deep. Scott’s knees were bouncing off the ground from the force of the impact, Henry’s huge blue-furred body completely dwarfing his as those thick blue arms and massive blue thighs smothered his lean, boyish, hairless form. Henry had a furred arm wrapped around Scott’s waist now, bracing him to take each thrust, and Scott had straddled and struggled and stretched to accommodate him, abjectly unresisting despite the way the breath sobbed in his throat. A last thrust so savage it lifted Scott completely off the ground and Henry was coming into him, barbed and triumphant, roaring with it, utterly animal, king of the jungle quite unleashed, as hot come pumped and pumped as deep into Scott Summers as anyone ever had or ever could get.

 _Even Logan couldn’t fuck him any harder or deeper than that_ , he thought, and it was childish how much satisfaction the thought gave him.

Panting majestically, Henry kept Scott hauled back hard against him with a mercilessly strong arm around the waist so he couldn’t evade a drop of the hot semen filling him up, enjoying the way Scott squirmed helplessly against him, the barb a bright pain, and the pungent, steaming semen a flash of liquid heat. 

When Henry ordered quietly, “Push back, Scott,” Scott obeyed him, wriggling back so Henry’s softening shaft still filled him to the max. He kept Scott pulled in tight against him as he moved them both onto their left side, so his massive body spooned around Scott’s slender, boyish one. He undid the gag and eased it from Scott’s mouth and Scott, sobbing from the pain and his contradictory need to submit himself to more of it, made soft pleading sounds. Henry knew how much Scott wanted to curl into him but he made him wait as Henry’s cock softened gradually inside him, pulsing slowing, so they could both focus on those sensations as Scott’s drilled ass started throbbing with reaction. Henry eased his flaccid cock out of him gradually and Scott whimpered with relief and loss as it finally slid loose, come pouring from him after it. Henry thrust two fingers up into him and Scott whimpered harder, but let himself be tipped back onto his front, ass in the air as directed, as Henry hungrily licked him clean. Scott flexed from his rough tongue’s incursions, throbbing with soreness and completely over-sensitized, but took every lapping tongue slap and lick. Henry finished licking him clean then knuckled into his abused little hole playfully, making Scott keen, another thin, high, purely animal sound.

“Good boy,” Henry breathed, and it didn’t even sound like him, that low, animal sound, the way a lion would speak after a kill, the blood of a zebra still bathing its throat. “Tell me no one ever fucked you that hard before in your life.”

“No one ever did,” Scott whispered back.

Henry patted his chest at last and let Scott snuggle in against him, which he did needily, wriggling in close, clutching at his fur, rubbing his cheek against Henry’s chest and sighing with relief as an arm encircled him and held him close. Henry pulled Scott’s long slender thighs over his hips and Scott crossed them obediently at the ankles, only uttering a pleading little whimper when Henry brushed the flaccid tip of his cock against his sore hole. 

“None of that,” Henry warned him, voice low and dangerous yet with a seducer’s growl beneath it, caressing him like a loving whip. “I’m keeping you filled with me -- filled to the brim.” He offered it like a gift as well as a command and a warning and Scott shivered and twitched against him, sore and wincing but still slavishly bound to Henry’s will and Henry’s body. His cock, his come, and when he couldn’t get hard enough to pump spunk into his aching ass, there would be fingers or, as now, the wet tip of his dripping manhood. No one, including Scott himself, was going to imagine even for an instant, that Scott Summers belonged to anyone but Hank McCoy.

 ~*~*~*~*~

**Thirty-Six Hours Later**

Wearily, Henry landed the Blackbird on the top of Warren’s beautiful penthouse. The man was waiting for him, as requested, and alone, also as requested. He had been pacing up and down and now barely let Henry get the doors open before he ran up the ramp.

“Everyone’s been worried sick. I did as you asked. I told the Professor you had been in touch and that you and Scott were fine but needed to come here to see me before you flew home. They were very relieved it was just the bad weather that stranded you out there. Henry, _was_ it the bad weather?”

“Yes and no.”

Henry gathered the sedated, blanket-wrapped, naked Scott in his arms and carried him down the ramp while Warren fluttered around them, asking too many questions. Only when he carried Scott into the infirmary that Warren had there for exactly those occasions when the X-Men needed running repairs away from Westchester, did Warren stop talking and fall back. As Henry laid him on the gurney and folded back the blanket, Warren paled with shock at the sight of the damage.

“Oh my God. Was he…was Scotty gang-raped…?”

“Again, yes and no,” Henry said grimly. “If you consider me, myself, and I a gang, then, yes, he was.”

“You would never…. Hank, what happened?”

“Bad transition to the new me. I warned Scott that I wasn’t safe.” Henry rolled up his sleeves and washed his hands with thoroughness, concentrating on the next step so he wouldn’t have to look too long at the big picture. “It wasn’t…rape as such, in that he consented, but whether he was in his right mind to consent is debateable, whether either of us were in our right minds is debateable. We were mostly slaves to hormones and…survival of the fittest at its most basic. What I think can’t be denied is that even if we had chosen to have sex while completely ourselves, we would not have chosen to have it either so brutally or so often. I need to fix him up, Warren, and I think you and I would probably both prefer it if you didn’t have to watch me do it. I also don’t want him to wake up while he’s still being treated which is why I’ve put him under.”

“Is he going to need stitches?”

“Warren, trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Henry worked on Scott by himself, narrowing his focus so that all he thought about what was needed to be done next to repair the damage done to him. He had washed him out with warm soapy water, used a camera to map the tears, and used a device of his own design to make those dissolvable micro stitches, each one so tiny that it was of pinprick size, then the ointment, also to his own recipe, which would soothe the soreness and bruising as well as the edges of those invisibly mended abrasions. He suspected that if he put Scott’s injuries into the computer and asked them to check for a similar catalogue of damage it would find only rape victims, probably ones found in prison infirmaries. He had done the good friend whom he loved that level of hurt, and, at the time, had no doubts at all that it was his right to do it, or that Scott’s whimpers of pain were anything but his due. It didn’t help much that Scott had agreed with him. Scott, drunk, dazed, and bedazzled by Henry’s leader of the pack pheromones, had been as unlike Scott as Henry had been unlike Henry. Even now, when he was rigid with self-hatred, it could send a lick of longing through him to remember the way Scott had clung to him and rocked on his lap, his eager opening brushing over the wet tip of Henry’s cock.

He had to make sure an over-protective Xavier didn’t wipe it from both of their minds. It was important that at least one of them remembered. It was important that they didn’t make the same damned fool mistake the next time Henry’s body decided to turn him into another unreliable beast. He took down the nanotechnology box and took a deep breath. He believed they would make everything right, inside and outside of the Scott who had been fucked over and over again, night and day, for the past too many hours; banish the bruises from his body, heal up the fissures and tears, soothe away the soreness. They seemed to work like a computer that was programmed to return itself to an earlier setting if it became too compromised. It was what they would do for Scott. What they hadn’t been able to do for him. That, of course, had been their original function, to put Henry McCoy back to the way he’d used to be, but they couldn’t reverse mutation, that was beyond them. They just made the subject sick and feverish when they tried. Bodily hurts though, that they could fix. McCoy just wanted to make sure that he had done everything ordinary medicine could do first before he tried pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

He stuck a nanotech blocking strip over the useful cut on Scott’s forehead and then set them loose elsewhere.

 

They worked too much like magic. He almost thought it was a mistake, the way they went in there and fixed everything: Scott’s nibbled neck and cock-bludgeoned throat, his blue-black contused ass cheeks, the imprint of Henry’s balls, so clearly visible on them, smoothed away as if the bruises had never been, and then working their wonders inside him so that Scott’s virginity was miraculously restored from that torn, sore, stretched ass back to a tight, untouched one. They too completely erased Henry’s crime. He wanted a do over more than anything in the world, wanted this never to have happened, and something far better to have occurred in its place, but he didn’t deserve to be…let off. Did Scott, however, deserve to wake up stitched and sore just so that Henry could continue to feel choking remorse? He had been the equivalent of someone drugged and mind-controlled. He was probably going to wake up feeling utterly degraded as well as filled with self-disgust for the way he had so eagerly acquiesced to his own abuse. He did not need to feel physical pain as well. Henry thought of Scott having to wince every time he moved and along with the bright stab of self-loathing there was the thought of how humiliating Scott would find that, particularly with Logan around. So, he let the nanotech do its work. Let it smooth over Scott’s injuries and erase Henry’s crime as if it had never been.

Henry slid latex-gloved well-lubricated fingers into him very carefully when the nanotech had done its work, and it truly was a miracle, no heat, no damage, everything perfectly unblemished in there. His careful stitching had been redundant; his ointment unnecessary. Perhaps he’d just needed to do something himself to undo the damage he’d done. Perhaps even that had been all about him.

Scott, of course, always awkward, chose to wake up then, when Henry was still examining him. He gave a shifting wince and said in obvious confusion, “Henry…? Do you want me to cough?”

Henry said, “Yes.”

When Scott obliged, politely turning his head like the well brought up Boy Scout he was so he wouldn’t cough at Henry, Henry flexed his fingers automatically, checking for things he already knew were well. Scott didn’t have a hernia. There was nothing amiss with his prostate. He most certainly did have two descended testicles that hung in the right place.

“Is there some reason why you’re giving me my physical now?” Scott noticed their surroundings. “And here…? What happened?”

Henry could barely breathe for…hope. Because although he didn’t deserve to get away with what he’d done, the brief, shining prospect of it was so dazzling. _I will make it up to him. I will never hurt him again_. Cautiously, he said, “You don’t…remember?”

“No…um, Henry…?” Scott gave another shifting little grimace and Henry realized his newly-repaired and consequently virginally tight ass still had Henry’s fingers in it.

Henry very carefully withdrew his fingers and Scott barely winced, because his ass was elastic and undamaged and absolutely not bloodied and torn from being fucked and fucked and fucked some more by a man with an animal inside him. Henry stripped off the latex gloves automatically and dropped them into the waste.

Scott said again, “What happened?”

“I got frisky with you in a cave when we were cut off in a blizzard and entered your…Sotadic zone,” Henry said. 

Scott smirked. “Of course you did.”

“Well, Burton did include all of the Americas as being gung-ho for pederasty, so we’re geographically pre-excused. I’m a little disappointed that you’re not pregnant. I was hoping for triplets.”

The extraordinary thing was how like himself he sounded. 

Scott said, “What really happened?”

Henry held up a mirror so he could see the healing cut on his forehead as he pulled off the protective strip to reveal its bruised skin and ragged scab. “You had hypothermia and a concussion. I thought I might as well give you the full physical while I had you sedated for the cat scan. You usually fidget your way through it when you’re awake.”

“Well, you have big fingers.” 

Henry looked down at them and it was still a shock, he wasn’t used to them yet, the blue fur he had adapted to, but not only having three phalanges. He supposed he should be grateful his latest secondary mutation had at least left him with an opposable thumb.

His fingers were even bigger now, the ones he had left. His own voice went on mechanically, like it didn’t feel any guilt: “Logan has offered to give you a prostate exam, more than once. Of course, it wasn’t an entirely platonic proposal, unless he truly thinks prostate exams are best performed with erect penises….”

He could see his own erect penis, blood-flushed and hungry, pumping and pumping into Scott’s tender ass. Scott on his knees, whimpering submission as he obediently took every inch. Scott wriggling onto his lap, after Henry had filled him up with more come; craving some affection to offset the butt-pounding pain. Scott cuddling in against him, the perfectly obedient beta slaveboy, grateful for any tenderness at all, even if every kiss came with another hard prick for him to straddle as he was told to work his way down onto it and then ride it just right.

The nanotech had reset Scott Summers to an earlier setting, too. Not just his anal-recto trauma but his mind, too. Henry said, “Do you remember the warehouse? Do you remember going in the river?”

Scott needed to concentrate hard but that finally seemed to shake itself loose from the fog.

“I remember the warehouse…” he said slowly, frowning with the effort. “And then they shot at us and… Did I fall?”

“Backwards down a slope and then into the river – most inelegantly, I might add.”

“You went in after me?”

“Well, I wasn’t very busy just then. I decided I could spare a few minutes to rescue you from inevitable death. What else do you remember?”

Scott tried, he really did, but the nanotech had done its work. It had backtracked to the point where Scott had stopped being Scott and fixed him. Real Scott had gone into the river. Pheromone-controlled Scott had been carried out. The nanotech had reset to Real Scott.

“You had a nasty bang on the head. You’re probably not going to remember those missing hours. They weren’t that exciting. We hung out in a cave and tried not to die of hypothermia. How do you feel…?” He had let a tremor through. He had to be careful of that.

“Fine. My head doesn’t even hurt.”

“Anything else hurt…?”

Scott shook his head. “I feel great.” No doubt the nanotech had tuned up his muscle strains and fixed his bruises too. Ironically, the trip, in the long run, had probably done him good.

Henry said, “Good…” automatically. He was probably still saying it when Warren, unable to bear the suspense any longer, walked into the room. They exchanged a speaking glance and Henry tapped his temple and nodded at Scott, then shook his head. Warren’s turn to ask Scott how he was with a tremor in his voice while Scott jumped down from the gurney athletically and asked if there was any chance of some clothes, also some food as his stomach was growling.

“That’s just the triplets,” Henry reassured him and wondered what kind of a man made jokes with his victim about his brutal, multiple sexual abuse of him. Ones to whom none of this seemed real, perhaps?

Scott flashed him a wry grin over his shoulder. “Henry, not to be personal, but I’ve seen you naked. If we’d had sex in a cave, trust me, I would have remembered. And Warren would probably have heard me yelling ‘ouch!’ from here.”

Scott headed for the dining room, tossing over his shoulder a request for anything healthy Warren’s chef could whip up in the shortest possible time, also…clothes? While Warren looked at Henry and whispered, “He doesn’t remember?”

“The nanotech wiped his memory when they fixed his body. It’s gone. The whole event. No longer saved to his mental hard drive.”

Warren put a consoling hand on his shoulder. “Get rid of it too, Henry. You don’t need to remember it either. It wasn’t you.”

Henry shook his head. “‘Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.’ Santayana was right about that. This mustn’t happen again.”

 ~*~*~*~*~

Back in Westchester, Henry slammed the mental doors closed against probing telepaths, while Scott, having nothing to hide, left them open, reassuring everyone without even trying. Henry waxed poetical about the joys of thirty-six hours in a damp cave with a concussed Scott -- ever the sparkling conversationalist. He taunted Logan quite deliberately and in public with being medically required to snuggle up with a wet, naked Scott to cure his hypothermia and how disappointed he knew Logan was at having missed out on that particular gig. Scott was long-suffering about the quips from Bobby asking if they had made their own entertainment and said that yes, apparently, they’d passed the time with sex, unfortunately it had proven to be so unmemorable that he didn’t recall any of it. Who knew that Henry was such a forgettable romantic partner?

“The best kind of orgasms can sometimes cause amnesia,” Henry said blandly. Everyone laughed because of course it was unthinkable that good, kind Henry would ever have taken advantage of innocent young Scott in a blizzard.

It was forty-eight hours in and he was starting to think he might be able to unmask his face from its frozen joviality, to peel from his lips their witty quips, when Logan shuffled into the infirmary, glowering and furtive. He was barefoot and shaggy in a wife-beater, his jeans ripped at the knees. As usual, he wasn’t wearing any underwear and he smelled like Henry did, like someone who had strayed a step too close to Nature, and couldn’t now get back. Logan closed the door behind him and said, “When ya came back here, why did the Boy Scout’s ass smell of ointment? Why did ya stink of guilt? And why does the Blackbird smell like sex?”

Henry turned away so Logan couldn’t see his face, busying himself amidst blood samples. “I told you, Logan, Scott and I made out in that cave, just because he doesn’t remember it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Logan, the other man in the building with an animal inside him, said, “Kinda soon after yer latest change to go on a mission, wasn’t it? Doesn’t it take a few days to…bed in?” A darting suspicion arrowed his way from Logan’s unsettling eyes. Henry had often thought there was something attractive about his ugliness, but today all he could see was ugly. That and the view in his mind’s eye of his body impaling Scott’s. Logan continued relentlessly, “Ya left here smellin’ one way – came back smellin’ another.”

Henry said, “Logan, if this is a serious investigation on your part, may I ask what you smelled on Scott?”

“Ass-ointment. Still waiting for an explanation for that. Ya tellin’ me Pretty Boy’s got piles?”

Henry said, “I took the opportunity to do the usual physical while I had him sedated to assess the concussion. I was out of vaseline so I used that ointment for a lubricant instead. Apparently my fingers are still unpleasantly large, so, who knows, Logan, you may get your chance to give him that prostate exam next time, after all. You do seem to have an unhealthy fixation with his back passage.”

Logan said brusquely and unexpectedly. “Was sure ya’d fucked him in the worst way. Was sure I could smell it on him, even with that shower ya made him take at Warren’s.”

“I can assure you that neat freak Scott has never needed mine or anyone else’s persuasion to have a shower.”

“So, last night, seeing as Jeannie’s still away seeing her folks and Junior’s all alone, I put a couple of sleeping tablets in his cocoa. Then I give it an hour to kick in and I go in there with the latex gloves and the vaseline and a really good flashlight and I discover that the Boy Scout has just the kind of ass you’d expect a Boy Scout to have – clean and pure and tight as the driven snow.” Logan scratched at his jaw uncomfortably. “S’why I came to say I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have thought that of ya, Hank. It was wrong of me.”

Henry said tersely, “Did you fuck him? When you had Scott there, drugged and naked, I mean?”

Logan blinked in surprise. “What? No.”

“Did you want to?”

There was a moment when Logan seemed to be fighting something inside himself and then he shrugged. “Yeah. What of it? You sayin’ ya wouldn’t wanna fuck him under those circumstances?”

“Well, I would need him to be conscious and responsive. It’s a little quirk of mine.”

 “Yer smellin’ awful angry right now, Hank.” Logan looked him up and down. “Me touchin’ Cyke? Having him helpless like that? Ya hate it right down to the primal.”

Henry said crisply, “Yes.”

“When did ya stake yer claim?”

“I believe his…freehold is still up for grabs.”

“You gonna ask me to arm wrestle ya for him?”

Henry took a step back. “Scott doesn’t belong to me or to you and wouldn’t do whatever infantile contest you devised to test our so-called suitability to be his bed partner.”

Logan flashed him another of those soul-stripping looks. “Betcha’d take a pityfuck right now though, wouldn’t ya? After that business with Trish.”

“What? Being told that an attraction to me now counts as zoophilia? Who would be offended by that?”

Still watching him levelly, Logan said, “Yer not ‘offended’. Yer hurt. Like anyone would be. Bitch of a thing to say to ya.”

“Logan, I’m not really in the mood for sympathy right now, however well-intentioned.”

Logan held up his hands and retreated. “Came to apologize – apologized. You and me still good?”

“As ‘good’ as we ever were. Drug Scott again, however, and we will be somewhere quite a long way away from ‘good’.”

Logan said, “Hank – sniff yerself.” Unwillingly Henry did so and then winced. Yes, indeed, the possessive rage was stinking on his fur. Steadily, Logan said, “I can smell a prior claim when it’s chokin’ me. You _did_ make out in that cave, didn’t ya? Seems to me that if Scott and you got it on and that bang on the head made him ferget, then there wouldn’t be any harm in remindin’ him before Red gets back.”

Thickly, Henry said, “It wasn’t like that, Logan.” _God, how I wish that it had been like that! I would give anything for it to have been like that!_ He pretended to be absorbed with test tubes, shoving a skin sample under a microscope as if he cared what he was looking at. “I wasn’t myself and neither was he. Now, please drop the subject. I am in far greater control than I was but my temper is still somewhat erratic.” When he looked up, Logan was gone.

~*~*~*~*~

Hank had been so unhappy since his last mutation. Trish Tilby dumping him had plugged straight into his self-loathing and made it a hundred times worse. The pretending to be gay to get back at her thing was childish, but Scott could just about grasp that it was the only way Hank could feel empowered right now, the only way he could feel in charge of any part of a life that kept turning him into the figure in a Kafka novel, even if it was based on a lie. Ever since their mission together -- that Scott could barely remember -- he had tried to give Hank affirmation as someone who was still loved and needed, by Scott if not by Trish, but Hank kept pushing him away. Now, with Jean still away, Xavier away, and Ororo, Bobby and Logan on young mutant-supervision duty, and Scott a few drinks the wrong side of sober, Scott thought he would have another go at making Henry feel better about being rejected by Trish….

Scott realized that he had definitely had too much to drink. People -- well, Logan -- kept complaining about him being a lightweight and then pushing booze at him anyway. So, now he was drunk and it was Logan’s fault. Sometimes he thought Logan might be…hitting on him, and sometimes he thought he was just bullying him because Logan was a dick. Either way, his company was jangling and Scott had ended up feeling needled and picked on all through dinner, and he had missed Henry, who had claimed to be too busy in his lab to come and help out. Sitting alone in front of a blazing fire while the snow fell outside, and Scott nursed the bottle that Logan had told him he was too much of a wuss to drink, Scott couldn’t help thinking how comforting Henry was compared with Logan. He didn’t call him by stupid nicknames, or tell him that a woman like Jean needed a real man to keep her warm at night, not an uptight pretty boy, or keep talking about Scott’s ass and the likelihood of him keeping sticks in it. Scott looked at his watch and realized that it was blurry. Lots of things were blurry and he suddenly felt very tired and very lonely, and much more upset about all the crappy things Logan had said to him than he had been at the time. He missed the past like it was a person he wanted to talk to who wouldn’t take his calls. He missed Warren, who didn’t live with them any more, so no longer swept Scott up in his arms and flew off with him in that exhilarating/terrifying way he’d used to do, and Jean, who wasn’t exactly hurrying back to him. He realized that he wanted Hank.

The corridor was a lot longer and more unstable than usual. It was like being on an el train when it went around a bend, jolting Scott roughly from side to side, but, at last, a little bruised and breathless, he had made it to Hank’s bedroom. Scott fumbled the handle a few times -- it was tricky tonight -- and then made his way unsteadily in. He closed the door behind him, irresolutely, because Hank was asleep, when he had been expecting him to be awake. In fact Hank was sprawled, nakedly blue-furred, across his king size bed. He looked safe and warm and cuddly. Scott decided that he wanted company and that Hank wouldn’t mind.

Unlacing his shoes was much more complicated than he remembered but once he’d finished doing that, he realized that he must be undressing now, probably because it was night-time, given all the twinkly stars outside the window, so he should get on with that. He fell over taking his socks off, but, luckily, the carpet here was very, very soft…. Scott came to with a jolt, with everything weirdly tilted, and his face oddly close to the floor, and realized that he had been cuddling Hank’s carpet, sockless, and had possibly dozed off, whether for a few seconds, a few minutes, or a few hours, he couldn’t tell. He needed to finish undressing, that was clearly paramount. He did so, with quite a lot of difficulty, and then found he was naked, and cold because Hank, having fur, never switched the heating on in his bedroom. Scott crawled on his hands and knees over to that big, inviting bed. It was a matter of moments to climb up onto it, then to snuggle in next to Henry’s furry, warm body with a little sigh of contentment, as he pulled the man’s big furry arm over him like a comforter and drifted off to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

Henry woke with a jolt and smelled Scott. The aftermath of the dream was so vivid – the one in which he’d been granted that do-over he so desperately craved, where he had been gentle and tender and coaxed Scott to climax after climax with his fingers and tongue – that for a moment he could not only smell Scott but feel the relaxed weight of his hairless, naked body pressed against his.

When he opened his eyes, he realized that he could smell him so clearly because for some inexplicable reason, Scott had decided to climb naked into his bed and cuddle up with him. He swallowed hard and had to tell himself that the beast was under control now. The lion was sleeping. He was in control of this mind and this body, and the man he really was would never hurt Scott like that foul animal had done. Cautiously, he bent his head and smelled his hair. It carried the scent of some herbal shampoo that Jean had probably bought him, and he could separate the chemicals in it from the natural soaps. He pressed his face closer and inhaled, and got a bouquet of Scott’s shower gel, the way it reacted with his skin, and the grilled fish he’d had for dinner, and the marzipan liqueur that some idiot had let Scott drink unsupervised, when Scott could get drunk on a thimblefull of Christmas sherry, and, oddly enough, his own carpet, which Scott seemed to have been embracing like a long lost friend.

Scott’s eyes must have opened behind his visor because he said, “Hank…?”

Henry was proud of the way he kept his voice so steady: “Any particular…reason, why you’re naked in my bed, Scott?”

“I wanted a cuddle. I miss Warren. I miss Jean. I miss _you_ , Hank.”

He really was drunk off his head. He usually passed out when someone -- well, Logan -- got him this inebriated. Henry had never realized that he had an inbetween stage as a snuggler. “You’re one of those adorable drunks, aren’t you?” he said resignedly. “The affectionate, confiding type? That’s really very trying of you, Scotty. Can’t you just get argumentative and then puke like normal people?”

Scott snuggled in against him and rubbed his head against Henry’s chest. “I like being here with you. I like the way you feel. Do you want to do something…naughty?” he whispered, very daringly.

“More than you can possibly imagine.” He was swelling just in response to Scott’s cat-relaxed naked body with all its honed muscles and planes pressing against his; he felt light-headed for a scary moment as everything filled up, but then he was breathing around it, the erection and the need that came with it, and he was still -- thank God -- himself. He was himself with a painful, aching erection and a maddeningly desirable Scott plastered to his body, but he was still Henry McCoy. He dropped a brief kiss onto the top of Scott’s head and said, slowly and clearly, “Scott -- you are drunk off your delightful ass, so we won’t be doing anything naughty.”

Scott’s protesting whine did absolutely nothing to quell his erection, nor did the way he wriggled in closer and clung on tight as if he feared bodily eviction from the bed. “Please, Hank…? I want a cuddle.”

“You can have a…cuddle, Scotty, you dopey little inebriate. You just can’t have anything approaching sexual intercourse. No -- hands up here where I can see them.” He grabbed Scott’s wrist quickly as Scott made amateurish attempts to stroke him below the waist. Luckily, Scott was clueless, but given how hard he was, even Scott’s uncoordinated fumbling might be enough to get him off and then Scott would have given him a hand-job and they would be right back to Scott being taken sexual advantage of while not himself.

Henry was glad that his fingers were so big as it meant he could wrap them around both of Scott’s wrists quite easily, and pull them in against his chest, finger-cuffing him quite effectively. “Stop wriggling,” he told him sternly, as Scott squirmed against him encouragingly. 

Scott murmured hopefully, “Will you spank me if I don’t…?”

“Oh, my stars and garters, what hell-lab designed to punish those who have previously transgressed dreamed up this drunken incarnation of you? Scott, you must never ever _ever_ go to Logan’s bedroom when you’ve been drinking, do you hear me? Never!”

That was probably not a good idea to have put in his head. Scott cocked his visored head to one side and said thoughtfully, “Logan…?”

“Oh no, definitely not!”

Scott said, “He was mean to me at dinner.” But he was clearly still weighing his options. 

“That’s because he’s a mean, bad man -- whose bed you are absolutely _not_ climbing in while on your quest for carnal affection. Scott, we’re having a lovely cuddle, and you feel warm and safe and very, very sleepy, don’t you…?”

It took a little persuasion but Henry hung on grimly to Scott’s wrists and let him wriggle against his body in a way that struck agonizing sparks from his aching cock but did at least satisfy Scott that he was getting enough physical comfort from Henry’s warm, furry body that he didn’t insist on struggling free and seeking out Logan’s warm, furry body instead. Henry had a very bad five minutes when he wondered if it was actually possible to pass out from the pain of a cock throbbing like a diseased tooth, but at the end of it, Scott had wrapped himself around him affectionately and dozed off on his chest. 

He would have loved to slip out from underneath him and go and give himself some relief in the bathroom, but Scott was sleeping much too lightly, and Henry had no doubt at all that if he woke up and found Henry gone Scott would totter off drunkenly to Logan’s room in search of another cuddle. Henry briefly envisaged a scene in which he, naked and semen-stinking from having hastily jerked himself off in the shower, thundered into Logan’s room like a stern father from a gothic novel and ordered Logan to unhand a naked Scott. He suspected that if a willing Scott climbed into Logan’s bed that Logan would quite promptly and efficiently flip Scott flat on his back and be in him before Henry had caught up with them, and would then have the brass-balled effrontery to go on thrusting while casually telling Henry over his shoulder to take a hike even as Henry was telling him to stop that at once. He could just imagine how many spectators would turn out to watch that particular scene.

So he bore it, grimly, teeth-gritted as the ache built to the point where it really did feel as if his cock was going to burst open, and then gradually, agonizingly subsided. He gasped with relief and slackened his death-grip on Scott’s wrists a fraction, and Scott gave a snuffling little flex in against him, sighing with contentment as he pillowed his face on Henry’s fur, rising and falling to the exhalations of Henry’s massive leonine lungs. His lips were slightly parted and his breath surprisingly sweet. Henry remembered forcing his cock into his mouth and Scott so obediently trying to accommodate him, and the self-hatred overpowered the jolt of arousal like dry foam on a flash fire.

~*~*~*~*~

Henry could not sleep, not with a naked Scott drowsing on top of him, occasionally murmuring nonsense, once trying to suckle from Henry’s manly, blue-furred chest, so Henry just lay there and endured it, while keeping hold of Scott’s wrists, and bearing all those little twitches and flexes and sighs and wriggles that Scott apparently did in his sleep, just to torture the person he was sleeping on. Scott’s long, slender legs fitted neatly in between Henry’s strong furry thighs, his quiescent cock lying just where Henry’s painfully erect one could feel its weight. He got the justice of it, certainly. He was the one who had wanted a chance to make amends. To have the same scenario offered to him where a Scott who was not himself was at his mercy and he kept him safe even from himself. He had just imagined it being more…heroic, and infinitely less ridiculous.

Finally, as dawn light broke through the undraped window, Scott stirred and licked his lips then said in confusion, “Henry…?” in a way that sounded like himself.

“Good morning, Mr. Summers. Please do tell me you have a killer hangover?”

 The way Scott clutched at his head and moaned seemed to confirm that.

 Not unsympathetically, Henry said, “Did you inadvertently move your eyeballs perchance?”

 “Yes,” Scott rasped.

 “Rookie mistake. I am going to lift you off my body now and place you on the bed beside me. This is not, as you will undoubtedly conclude, an act of heinous sadism, it is because I urgently need to urinate and, once having done so, I can then procure for you an excellent hangover cure of my own devising.”

 “Please don’t talk so loudly,” Scott whispered, clutching his head. “And I need to piss now too.”

 “Do you need to vomit…?”

 “Oh hell….”

 He had to grab him and sprint with him into the bathroom where Scott threw up violently into the lavatory bowl, clutching at his head in anguish as his body’s heaving retches made far too many parts of it move in ways that tortured his hangover headache. Resignedly, Henry urinated in the shower while making sympathetic noises.

 On another occasion, having been kept awake all night by him, not to mention prick-teased to the point of bursting, Henry might have enjoyed Scott’s suffering over the next half an hour, but he was still too guilt racked from abusing him in that freezing cave not to feel sorry for him. Scott was far too virtuous to have suffered many hangovers before, so the same man who shook off capture and torture by bad guys on a more or less regular basis was turned into a whimpering mess by the simultaneous revolt of so many of his body parts at once. Finally, however, when he had puked until he could puke no more, pissed out what seemed to be almost pure alcohol, and been helped into the shower, he got to the point where he could stand upright almost unaided -- he did have to hold onto the soap dish for balance -- while Henry, who had now just accepted that no new humiliating test was not going to be set for him, washed off the vomit, sweat, and pungent odor of his own fur by coating Scott’s slicked warm skin with shower gel and foaming it over every taut, leanly muscled temptation, before rinsing him clean. 

Scott rallied enough to take over washing himself, and did so with focused concentration. Henry, momentarily forgotten, but watching, was surprised, aroused, and then as the full ramifications sunk in, dismayed, to discover that Scott’s ordinary shower routine involved soaping himself up inside and then thoroughly douching himself clean with the detachable showerhead -- held a rigid two inches away from his body at all times. He didn’t think he was watching a clean freak at work here. He was watching a man who had once been a boy who woke up on a regular basis with sticky secretions in his ass and had got in the habit of washing himself there. Given the way Scott’s mind tended to slam the doors on the past so it couldn’t be examined too closely, Henry wondered if Scott had ever actually let himself realize that invasive things must have been done to him while he slept -- or while he was awake which he had then been compelled to forget. Both Sinister and Winters had been telepaths. They could do what they wanted to his mind, but if they or their minions had ejaculated inside an adolescent -- or God, please, no, pre-adolescent -- Scott it would still take soap and water to wash away the evidence. For all Henry knew, Scott had been mentally programmed to wash himself that way every morning and not to think about it, years since. 

He knew there had been a boy at Sinister’s orphanage whose image Xavier had picked up sometimes when Scott was feverish and they were working as one -- Henry to heal his body and Xavier to soothe his mind -- who had bullied Scott and shadowed him, obsessed with him, pushing other boys away and keeping Scott for himself. He had been Scott’s size in the beginning but had all too quickly grown bigger and stronger and no less bullying, no less obsessed. Scott never spoke of him but Henry wondered just how many times that boy had climbed into Scott’s bed in the orphanage and done as he liked.

He helped Scott into his robe and steered him back to the bed, his hands on Scott’s shoulders to gently push him forward. Once safe-harbored on the bed, he told him to stay absolutely still and not turn his head or move his eyeballs and to drink the glass of water Henry was now putting in his hand while Henry got him some medicine that was way better than alka-seltzer.

“My hangover cure is a miracle cure.” He patted him gently on the shoulder. “Trust me, Scott.”

Scott, damp, sweet-smelling, and weirdly desirable given how much vomiting he had been doing, sipping the water with the curious rigidity of a man trying not to move his eyes, said, “I’d be a dick not to, wouldn’t I, after last night?”

Henry gaped because, of course, he thought Scott had suffered the usual amnesia of the inebriate. It had not occurred to him for an instant that Scott might not have done. “You…remember…?”

“Henry, I got into your bed naked and pretty much begged you to have sex me. I’m so sorry. I know you’re straight. I don’t know what came over me. I think it was just seeing Warren again. It made me think of the old days. But I’m so sorry I hit on you like that. It was a terrible thing to….”

“Scott, stop talking.” He squeezed his shoulder gently. “There are things we need to talk about but let me get you something for that headache first, okay? And, just so you know, I was not remotely offended, only very flattered and, frankly, rather painfully aroused.”

He could practically feel the self-flagellator who was Scott not believing him, but he really wanted to ease Scott’s headache more than he wanted to ease his mind, so he headed off down the corridor, then -- remembering the way Logan could smell anything and everything, possibly including vulnerable drunken remorse and slippery nakedness under a borrowed bathrobe -- strode back to his door, reached inside for the key, and then firmly locked Scott in. Logan could possibly harangue him through the keyhole and demand details of what had gone on, but he could not actually get in there and start sniffing him.

By the time Scott had swallowed Henry’s hangover medicine, brushed his teeth three times, and finished drinking two large cups of black coffee, he was more or less back to normal, albeit with damper hair. He was just utterly mortified. He thanked Henry again for his help, apologized wretchedly, and made to head off, looking in that moment so painfully like the Scott Henry had first encountered back in High School -- the new kid who would never make eye contact, head bowed, body thin, bruised and seared with cigarette burns from his vicious abuser -- that Henry simply couldn’t bear to let him walk out of the room feeling like that.

“Scott, there’s something I have to tell you. It’s a very shocking and brutal thing and I was hoping to…frankly, I was hoping to get away with it. But I realize now that I never had the right not to tell you what happened, so, I need you to come and sit down and listen to me.”

Scott looked confused, as well he might, but he obediently came back and sat on the chair while Henry, having locked the door to keep out any intruders, perched on the bed. 

“That last mission we were on that you don’t remember. This is what really happened….”

He had thought Scott would interrupt, but Scott was too bright for that, too much the quiet leader who absorbed all available data before making a decision, so he listened, without asking questions, just nodding every now and then to show that he had understood. A few times, listening to himself, Henry could hear that justifying note creeping into his voice, trying to excuse the inexcusable before he backed away and stated it baldly, that it had been every bit as bad as that.

At the end, he waited and there was a long silence before Scott said, “So, Warren knows? But nobody else.”

“Logan suspected. He pretty much got it, I think, but then when he examined you, of course, there was no physical evidence of us having had intercourse, and plenty of physical evidence proving that when it came to anal sex you were pure as the driven snow. He decided he was wrong and I let him believe it.”

Scott said unexpectedly, “You know it wasn’t you, right, Henry?”

“I…hoped it wasn’t me. I wasn’t really sure until last night. Now, I’m fairly confident that it wasn’t because -- the truth is, and I need you to know this, so you know exactly who it is you are trusting yourself to in the future -- I do still want to have sex with you. I really wanted to have sex with you last night, and had you been sober and climbed into my bed naked, I would gladly have done so.”

“You should have told me what happened.”

“I know. I thought I was trying to protect you. The truth is I was just trying to protect myself. I did a terrible thing and I didn’t want to have to fess up to it.”

“You should have told me so you weren’t having to shoulder it by yourself. It wasn’t you who did it. It wasn’t -- by the sound of things -- even me you did it to. The guy that -- the guy that you were -- did it _to_ seemed to be fine with it. So, that guy, who was never you, had brutally ass-ripping rough sex with a guy who was never me, who apparently liked it that way. I’m not sure what that has to do with you and me when we weren’t even there.”

“Well, because, Scott, to be crudely direct about it -- it was my cock that ripped up your ass. Warren took one look at you and thought you’d been gang raped, that was how bad it was. You were still bleeding from the last session when I was climbing on you for the next one. At Warren’s place I was stitching you back up for an hour before the nanotechnology rendered my efforts moot.”

Scott still smelled neither shocked nor angry or afraid. He tilted his head and said, “Do you want to do that now? Ram your cock down my throat and make me choke on your come? Fuck me until I bleed?”

It was as shocking hearing those porn movie words from Scott’s sculpted mouth as it would have been to hear them from a nun. Henry might actually have gasped. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure?”

Henry thought about it, trying to reach into his darkest depths, and realized there was nothing of that in him. He wanted to have sex with Scott, but not like that. Never like that. “Quite sure.”

“Good, that makes two of us then.” Scott squared his shoulders. “Henry, I came here last night because in my drunken incoherent way I wanted you to know how wrong Trish was. I wanted to show you that you’re still wanted and needed and how desirable you still are. In fact, as we’re sharing soul-stripping shameful secrets, I’ll say it bluntly. I liked you a lot when you were human-shaped and I think I would have enjoyed having sex with you. I liked you just the same when you grew blue fur, and I think I would have enjoyed having sex with you in that incarnation, too, but I didn’t start thinking about it as much as I have been doing lately until you looked like this. But since you started looking like this…I’ve been thinking about it a lot more than I should have done. That’s what Jean picked up on in my head. That’s why she decided to go visit with her folks.”

It rippled through him, warm and glowing, the realization that Scott was telling the truth. Of course, he was telling the truth. Scott Summers was a Boy Scout, who probably couldn’t lie without crossing his fingers behind his back. Even like this, no -- _especially_ like this -- Henry McCoy was appreciated, wanted, and desired. Henry felt as if his veins had just filled up with mulled wine spiced with honey. He swallowed hard and Scott rose to his feet and let the robe slip open, lean-bodied and slender and strong as a whip, and crossing the few feet between them to stand in front of Henry as Henry sat, gaping, on the bed. Scott’s hollowed abdomen was right in front of him, and below it, the finest line of hair leading the eye down to it, and beginning to show interest, was his firming cock.

“What -- what did Jean suggest you should do about those thoughts…?”

“She suggested that I should see if you were willing for me to act on them. She thought it might get it out of my system. She thinks it’s that I crave affirmation from the alpha males in my life because of my childhood, and that I probably have a subliminal need to submit myself physically and sexually to you and to Logan to balance the imbalance of me leading the team when I’m younger than you are and you’re both stronger than I am. She thinks it would make me feel a lot better if I did that. She thinks it might make the two of you feel better, too, and less inclined to resent me later.”

“Jean’s a very wise woman, except for the part where she thinks you need to submit yourself sexually to Logan. That’s obviously just…wrong. Well, unless, I was also there to ensure…fair play and that he didn’t get too rough with you, and, yes, given what I did to you in that cave, I appreciate the irony and still in no way retract that condition.”

“Wasn’t you. Wasn’t me. Not our problem, although I’m glad you developed that nanotechnology.” Scott moved even closer and there was really no denying the fact that his cock was bobbing tantalizingly close to Henry’s mouth. “That means that if we do this, it really will be our first time, won’t it? I mean -- you practically gave me a brand new ass…?” 

Henry found he was licking his lips, hungering for Scott’s cock in a way that surprised him. He was also getting hard again. He had, however, not the faintest idea if Scott was so unperturbed about hearing that he had been brutally and repeatedly sodomized because, having no memory of it, it had no reality for him, or if something that traumatic was automatically and efficiently repressed by the labyrinthine confusion of his damaged mind; like a pop-up ad with an unpleasant image flaring that was suppressed by the defense systems of the machine before anyone got more than a passing glimpse of it. 

He said, “Scott, you do understand…? You were sexually…used by me, roughly, many times, and with no consideration of your bodily needs or even of your consent, to the point where I did you physical harm?” 

“Yes, but that wasn’t us, that was just something that happened. That isn’t relevant to _this_.”

He was pretty sure Scott’s mind was just going to keep scooping up any references Henry insisted on making to Scott’s brutal buggery in a cave and filing them firmly under ‘Nothing To See Here’. Scott’s mind was apparently very good at that. It probably had bulging filing cabinets of abuses carefully locked away where Scott would not accidentally stumble over them while looking for useful mission inventory.

Henry felt a sense of desolation sweep through him at how damaged Scott was and then forced himself to take a look at the young man standing in front of him, who simply functioned like this. Functioned very efficiently too. In fact, if one was going to go nuts from an unwanted secondary mutation, and sexually abuse a teammate for thirty-six hours in a freezing cave, perhaps it should be the one who already had the mental apparatus in place to deal with it. He wondered just how many assaults it had filed away over the years -- from Sinister, the other boys in the orphanage who all seemed to have been either aspects of Sinister or his trained spies, there to provide the emotional damage done to Scott so that Sinister could assess it at his leisure when experimenting on his hapless little lab rat. He had often wondered why Xavier had learned so little about what _exactly_ had been done to Scott in that hellish place but he was now getting an inkling as to why.

The scientist in him just couldn’t help himself. “Scott, that boy you shared a room with when you were in the orphanage? The one who bullied you…?” _And who seemed to be compulsively obsessed with you, perhaps because Sinister programmed him to be_. 

“He’s not important.” Yes, that expression. Blank followed by a sort of dismissive head movement. He suspected there was a set of benign memories over the real ones, perhaps due to Sinister’s system of mental blocks, and that on some level Scott suspected that they were false but found the benign ones easier to live with. Or perhaps he just didn’t remember what it was like to have a brain that hadn’t been endlessly messed around with by malevolent outside influences so thought a brain that came with its own trauma clean-up crew, that came in and swept away all the disturbing things to the dark corners so he had clear space to strategize, was a normal way of thinking.

“Can we stop talking about the cave now?” Scott said, clearly having moved on from that past irrelevance and wanting to get back to here and now. He smelt very aroused and slightly guilty and as if he were enjoying feeling both of those things. He edged a little closer and his body language was docile and coaxing at the same time, like a kitten trying to persuade one to play -- an irresistible combination to any healthy lion-man who had spent a very frustrating sleepless night. Scott went on carefully, “Because I’d much rather talk about me submitting myself to you sexually.”

Henry had to swallow hard. “We can…talk about that if you like.”

Scott held out his wrists and Henry saw with a jolt that he had bruised them while keeping Scott from touching him while internally wrestling with his painful erection. His fingermarks were clearly imprinted on the skin in purpling contusions.

Scott used a voice that went straight to his groin and practically breathed on the tip, “I know you didn’t tie me up last night, Hank, but it’s making me really hot right now -- pretending that you did.”

The noise that came out of Henry’s throat was not one he could have imagined making while still man-shaped, nor was that impulsive grab and throw down of Scott flat on his back on the bed, entirely unrelated to darker animal needs. The light behind Scott’s visor flashed with excitement and he spread his long lean legs as Henry straddled him hungrily. 

“You’re sure…?” Henry breathed, dry-throated. “After what happened last time…?”

“I’m not with that guy now. I’m with you. I trust you.”

Henry bent his head and something like a sob of relief came from his throat before he closed his mouth over Scott’s firm cock and began to give him the best, deepest, most brain-melting blow job ever delivered by a large mutant genius covered in blue fur.

 

The noises Scott made while being fellated were _incredible_ , so was the squirming and the spine arching and those jerky flexes of his long, slender legs. Yet, much as he was enjoying himself, Henry couldn’t help thinking that if Logan were the one doing this, Henry would get to watch Scott responding to it. He could kiss him, deep and firm, and taste those little moans on his own tongue. He could slip a supporting hand under his head and help him twist over just enough to take Henry’s cock into his mouth and be able to watch his face as Logan’s hot, demanding mouth made him come. He imagined them competing over Scott’s smooth, boyishly beautiful body, yellow glare to yellow glare, predators pawing the ground over prey both considered rightfully theirs. It would be ugly and basic and probably very stupid, but it would also be hot as hell. 

He was quite sure, too, that Scott would love every minute of it. He thought again of that skinny teenage boy, trying to wrap his head around Nietzsche, knowing he would be going home to another beating later because no one cared enough to intervene. Even though he was coming to school in rags, half-starved and with band-aids barely covering his cigarette burns, no one gave a damn about him, except when his powers manifested, whereupon angry men wanted to kill him for being a mutant. No wonder the stoic leader of the X-Men, under his handsome surface shell, was riddled with all that self-doubt and insecurity. Henry wondered if that was part of what this was about from Jean, also -- wanting to get Scott some affirmation from his peers in a way that he might be able to comprehend. Perhaps praise didn’t cut it with Scott, however well Xavier or anyone else phrased it, but actual touching did. Two of them wanting to touch him, alpha males to boot, the kind that had brushed past him, unseeing, in school corridors, shoved him out of their way carelessly for years when he was a skinny kid who had not yet reached his adult height, those kind of men that focused on him, _competing_ for his attention. Yeah, Scott would probably love that.

He wondered if Sinister had caressed him when he was pleased with him. If there had ever been times when Winters stopped yelling and hitting him and -- deciding Scott could multitask to fulfill some of his other needs -- did a little coaxing instead. He had never liked to ask Scott if the man who had been beating him had also been molesting him. It seemed too dark a thing to contemplate, but there would be a terrible symmetry to it if the only times his previous protectors had ever been kind to him was when they wanted sex. If that was the only physical affection he’d been shown since he’d lost his parents perhaps he couldn’t really believe in love when it came in any other form.

He had kept sucking all the while, much more skilled than Scott at relaxing his throat muscles so he could take him all the way, and Scott was squirming ecstatically, innocently surprised by being deep-throated. Henry had always suspected that his sex-life with Jean was a little vanilla, possibly a frustration to Jean, too, if Scott had put her up on a pedestal and wouldn’t ever let the poor woman step down long enough for them to get a little dirty together. He leaned over him and took him in deep, not really a penance for making that poor confused Scott in the cave do this for that brutal animal, but feeling all the same that fair was fair. And he was enjoying it himself, he had to admit, making Scott arch and gasp and twitch and make those shocked rising octave sounds. 

There was a bang on the door and Logan snarled, “Ya sound like a fuckin’ girl, Summers!”

Henry lifted his mouth off Scott’s cock and gave the tip a swipe with his tongue that made Scott shiver and his toes clench. He said softly, “How naughty do you want to be, Scotty…?”

And there was something deliciously innocent about the way Scott looked like a good boy trying to work out how one might be really _really_ bad. “Naughty…” he admitted, face turned Henry’s way as if assessing what the right answer was meant to be.

“Naughty enough for two…?”

Scott gulped and gave a rapid, guilty little nod. Henry smirked at him. “You are going to have to give back those merit badges, you know, Scott.” He raised his voice and said, “Come back in half an hour, Logan. Maybe I’ll feel like sharing. I just have an itch I need to scratch first.”

There was a shocked silence from outside the door and then Logan bent his mouth to the keyhole and hissed, “Hank, let me in.”

He sounded worried, so Henry cast a raised eyebrow Scott’s way, reluctantly climbed off him and crossed over to the door. As soon as he unlocked it, Logan burst in and sniffed him suspiciously, then looked at him in confusion.

“Ya smell like you….”

“I am me, Logan, you halfwit. I’m also, you may have noticed, a me who is mid-coitus with Scott, who would consequently like you to clear off and….”

But Logan had already loped over to the bed where Scott was looking up at him in both confusion and embarrassment while trying to tug Henry’s robe over his saliva-slick erection to hide it. Logan sniffed Scott too, who flinched and then gave an aroused little shiver as Logan’s hot beer breath ruffled his hair and played on the nerve down his neck. “And you smell like you.” Logan planted a palm across Scott’s forehead and sniffed the air. “Don’t seem to be runnin’ a fever….”

“He’s not running a fever. We are neither of us running a fever, nor mind-controlled, body-snatched, or otherwise unlike ourselves. We are simply feeling horny and experimental. Now would you mind clearing off? I’m endeavoring to bring Scott to a mutually satisfactory climax with glossal dexterity alone.”

Logan blinked and put two fingers to Scott’s neck to feel his pulse automatically while still looking at Henry. “You’re sucking off the Boy Scout?”

“With considerable skill, I might add.”

“That’s true,” Scott admitted.

Logan took Scott’s face by the jaw and turned his head to stare into his face with a penetrating amber gaze. “You feel like yourself, Cyke? You ain’t feeling weird?”

“Yes – I mean, no,” Scott protested. “Perfectly like myself.”

“You two just decided to get frisky with each other?”

Henry gave Logan a smug smirk. “Scott finds my latest mutation irresistibly attractive.”

To his surprise, Logan shrugged. “Can see that. Ain’t sayin’ it ain’t kinda…majestic.”

“Yes!” Scott surprised them both by sitting upright and then hastily clutching the robe back over his erection. “That’s the perfect word for it. It’s like…getting to make out with Aslan.”

“Who was effectively allegorically…God, of course,” Henry said, crossing back over to the bed as Logan showed no sign of moving away from Scott and he didn’t want him establishing squatter’s rights. “Although, I suspect that was not his appeal for you. Indeed there are now mental questions being raised about your interior fantasy relationship with anthropomorphic animals in children’s literature that trouble me somewhat. Did you -- perchance -- think Bagheera was…hot?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Scott returned, clearly nonplussed.

“Shere Khan…?”

At Scott’s perfectly unselfconscious nod, Logan and Henry exchanged a glance and Logan said, “Don’t suppose ‘Call of the Wild’ was a favorite, too, was it, Slim?”

Scott said, “The way Buck has to revert to the primitive to survive in the wild is kind of thrilling, don’t you think?”

As if it was of no account, Henry said, “Did you ever have…odd dreams about you and Buck out in the snowy wilderness, having to snuggle up to keep warm?”

“Oh yes,” Scott said, clearly still in his ‘doesn’t everyone?’ place.

Henry said to Logan in an undertone, “Well, super-alpha wolf-dogs and all-powerful big cats seem to have been his go-to for suppressed emerging sexual fantasies as a pre-adolescent, which makes his attraction to us both more explicable and…disturbing.”

Logan hissed, “He wanted to get fucked by Buck from ‘Call of the Wild’?”

Henry murmured rapidly, “Not on any conscious level. Subconsciously though…I wouldn’t be at all surprised. I suspect he admired his ability to strike off into the snowy wilderness and overcome all odds through engaging the primitive and animal -- much like yourself in your escape from the Weapon X program. Scott, being stuck in Nebraska, bound by the bonds of civilization to conform and submit to both oppression and abuse, may have felt that it would be nice to hand over responsibility for his body and his future to someone who had already proven himself worthy by…choosing a more unfettered path. He had no female avatars to imprint upon except his mother, so shied away from women as sexual fantasy fuel, and had known only bullying and abuse at the hands of human males, so perhaps sought non-human role models as saviors, the only creatures who were not tainted by association. It would explain why he’s so sexually unadventurous with Jean yet has been drawn to you from the day you showed up here being an unbridled ass to him and why he’s been pining after me since I turned into a big, blue lion-beast. We are both the comfortable, familiar heroes of his childhood made flesh, and the personifications of his first inchoate sexual urges – which, interestingly but not unexpectedly, given his abusive past, seem to have been entirely passive and receptive.”

Logan said impatiently, “Yer saying Junior’s got no hang-ups about taking it up the ass from you and me because we remind him of his first forgotten wet dreams? The ones he had in the orphanage after reading too many kids’ books about talking animals?”

“I think I phrased it somewhat more elegantly.”

Scott said, “Why are you whispering?”

“No reason,” Henry assured him blandly. He was surprised at how much he wasn’t resenting Logan bursting in on the proceedings. He had been thinking he wanted some time alone with Scott first, like a man getting to deliver the lecture before he opened the floor to questions. But in fact -- shamefully -- he found he rather liked the idea of another alpha male bearing witness to him claiming Scott, not to mention Scott submitting to him, and he more than liked the idea of watching Scott being fucked by some other male animal, preferably one somewhat smaller and less impressively hairy than himself. Aloud though, he said, “Now, if you don’t mind, Logan, before you interrupted us, I was trying to orally satisfy Scott.”

“Still not convinced yer yerselves,” Logan grunted.

Henry sighed with exaggerated patience. “Well, do you want to stick around to ensure that we don’t start acting wildly out of character or hurting each other?” He was genuinely surprised by how much he wanted Logan to take the bait. He had no idea where this new exhibitionism came from but suspected that it might be a lord of the jungle thing.

Logan flared up with resentment and arousal and Scott just flared with arousal; a guilty, shameful excitement as his mouth opened in shock and he turned his head between them. Henry had quite deliberately not asked him this time, understanding, he thought, that what Scott had been trying to tell him with the pretend bonds was that he wanted not to be responsible for what took place in this bedroom. He had already admitted that he wanted to be naughty. He was trusting Henry not to hurt or exploit him while nevertheless letting Henry know that this was not a mission and Scott very emphatically would not be the one calling the shots. That suited Henry just fine. So, he was now high-handedly inviting another man to watch Scott giving it up to Henry, without seeking Scott’s opinion on the matter, and Scott was guiltily excited at both Henry treating him like a chattel and at the prospect of Logan sticking around.

Logan shrugged, like he wasn’t stinking with want, resentful and jealous and horny and curious all at once. Darting glances at Henry like he was seeing him for the first time, those fingers still against Scott’s neck as he felt his pulse quicken at the prospect of Logan staying, he said gruffly, “Guess I could stick around. Show ya a few tricks.”

“I thought old dogs couldn’t learn those?” Henry returned blandly, letting him know that, yes, there would be an element of competition and, yes, he probably was going to be something of an ass.

“Ya might be surprised, Bub,” Logan growled. He bent and stole a hot, hungry kiss from Scott who jolted in surprise at those rough lips bruising his but then opened his mouth eagerly to receive Logan’s demanding tongue.

Henry let him plunder Scott’s mouth for a few arousing breaths then pulled him off Scott and shoved him in the right direction. “Lock the door. I really don’t think we want one of the students wandering in uninvited.”

He went back to blowing Scott while Logan watched; showing off, majestically, just how good he was at this, while Scott arched and whimpered ecstatically and moaned, “Oh God, Hank…” in the most gratifying fashion, while Henry played him like a viola solo. Logan took the sight of Scott squirming in an orgasmic fashion while Henry toyed with him for a few minutes and then bent and whispered something hotly in Scott’s ear.

Scott, in between moans and arches, panted a shamed whisper back that Henry’s ears picked up easily: “You have to ask Hank. He’s in charge.”

Logan growled but his scent and look were lust-bright and Henry could sense that the competition was adding an exciting edge to events for him too. Logan said, “Well…?”

Henry deep-throated Scott in a leisurely fashion, making him shudder and arch and wail his way into the pleasure of it, but once again pinched the base of his cock to prevent him from coming until he had settled back down and moved away from the brink. He lifted his mouth off Scott’s cock and said, “Well, what?”

“Can I put my dick in the Boy Scout’s mouth?”

“You know, in an hour or so it’s going to be really inappropriate for you to use that sweet little pet name you have for him, because not only would Scott have been drummed out of the movement for bad behavior, calling him that is going to make you feel like a pedophile.”

Flushing a little with anger, frustration, and a weird getting-off-on-submitting-to-lion-beast-Henry vibe that neither of them had seen coming, Logan said doggedly, “I won’t come in his mouth, just want him and my cock to get face to face acquainted. Fact is I think you should let me have his ass first.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Logan said, “It ain’t an alpha male competition thing, it’s a straight up size thing. Yer bigger now. Too damn big for that tight little virgin hole of his ‘less I loosen it up fer ya. You try shovin’ that into him as his first time, however much you slick it, Slim’s gonna be bitin’ the pillow before yer halfway home.”

Henry was torn between wanting to have Scott himself and dreading the thought of freezing up with horror when he remembered those tears he had left with what was the same equipment. Certainly, he had every intention of wielding it far more gently but he was still shocked by how much damage he had done, and although there was not a sign of it anywhere else, those images were still all too clear in his mind’s eye. Also, he had to admit, that he found the thought of actually watching another cock sliding into Scott’s ass very arousing, particularly Logan, hairy, alpha, big dog that he was, staking a claim that Henry, in all his equally hairy, alpha male, big cat superiority, would undoubtedly want to dispute. He thought that, practically, Logan doing so would loosen Scott up enough that Henry’s cock entering him would be a far more pleasurable experience for both of them, and, psychologically, would be the impetus he needed to push past his trauma-related resistance to anally penetrating Scott.

Henry said, “All right, but if you hurt him…I may find myself killing you too late to stop. This mutation has a somewhat uncertain flashpoint and I have my own reasons for feeling very protective of Scott right now.”

Logan said gruffly but with a dogged honesty that was quite undisguised, “I’ll be gentle. We both know he’s just a kid.”

Scott said breathlessly, “I’m not a ‘kid’. I’m the leader of the X-Men.”

“Yer both, Slim,” Logan told him, but the way he ran his fingers through Scott’s hair was unexpectedly tender.

Scott murmured, “Henry, please…?”

As he bobbed his mouth on Scott’s aching cock, Henry kept watching Logan, and the man was a lot gentler than he expected. He stroked the back of a finger down Scott’s cheek, encouraging Scott to rub his face against Logan’s hand, which he did, shyly and sweetly, in a way that made Logan’s face soften. He brushed Scott’s hair back from his face and said, “Ya sure yer up for this, Slim?”

Scott nodded, still flexing and panting in time to Henry’s skillful sucking, but with his attention torn between the two of them now. Logan pulled his t-shirt over his head, then stripped off his jeans matter-of-factly, revealing a densely muscled body lightly furred with dark hair. His cock was only half-hard as yet, but it was impressive, if not as large as Henry’s, certainly large enough. He held it in his right hand and offered the tip to Scott who obligingly licked the end, as if it were an ice cream cone.

“Just spit it out any time ya ain’t comfortable, Cyke,” Logan said. “I ain’t gonna be offended. Ain’t gonna push it in either, you take as much or as little as you like. We clear?”

Scott said, “Yes, Logan,” and he sounded sweeter somehow, too, like he had let go of all the surface armor he had to wear to lead them through a mission and was just unvarnished Scott Summers, naked in a bed with two men he had given leave to dominate him. He arched as Henry sucked hard and then licked Logan’s cock again, less tentatively and with increasing curiosity, savoring the flavor of it, running his tongue over his lips to assess it. Henry did flinch inwardly as he remembered cramming his cock down Scott’s poor bruised throat but it was clear that Scott had no such memories, he was taking the head of Logan’s cock into his mouth curiously and trying a little head bobbing suction that was making Logan’s cock harden perfectly to a thick flushed length.

Logan ran a still gentle hand through Scott’s hair and supported the back of his head, saying, “Good boy…” in a rough voice that fooled no one. Henry had a suspicion that Logan could get very sentimental during sex, and Scott was, in any case, just the sort to bring that out in a man; given how trusting he was being. Logan kept supporting Scott’s head but not pushing it forward even though Henry knew he must be desperate for Scott to take him in deeper than he was doing. Scott grabbed Logan’s forearm in frustration and pulled himself up and Logan put an arm around his shoulders to help steady him. Scott immediately bobbed much deeper onto Logan’s cock, eager now, and matching his rhythm to Henry’s on his own cock.

He was as amateurish as anyone would have expected but he was willing and determined, trying to do what Henry was doing and then falling back in frustrated spluttering.

“Easy, Slim -- you got a gag reflex working against ya there. Nothing wrong with that. Ya don’t need to take me any deeper than yer comfortable with. Just get used to the taste and make it feel welcome and I’ll be a happy man….”

Henry, who had been holding back on purpose, gave Scott a good five minutes to get Logan fully hard and pleasurably wet, then began to work his throat around Scott’s aching shaft with deft swallowing pressure that made Scott arch and gasp and Logan’s cock slip from his mouth as he spasmed with the pleasure jolts. Logan held him up quite tenderly, crouching down to pull him in against his chest and Scott clung to Logan and wailed shocked ecstatic incoherence that Logan hastily smothered with a muffling hand, holding him in tight as Scott thrashed and then arched before shooting creamy ribbons all over his own bare chest.

“There ya go, Slim. Easy does it….” Logan kept holding and soothing him, stroking his hair back from his face, and gave Henry a grin over his shoulder. “Guess yer pretty good at that.” He soothed Scott with the same rough tenderness, giving his back a brief, consoling rub, while Scott curled in against him as he came back down from his orgasm high.

“You are a very responsive boy, aren’t you, Scotty?” Henry drawled.

“Frickin’ gift from the pleasure gods if you ask me,” Logan said, with unexpected poetry. “You back with us, Slim?” Scott nodded, clearly a little embarrassed about his wailing orgasmic loss of control. “You wanna suck Hank’s cock for a while, just to get it nice and slick fer ya? While I get you opened up?”

Henry was sure that Logan smelled that brief scent flash of fear and foggy hormonal excitement as well as he did, but Scott only gave a tight little nod. If Henry had needed any further convincing that this Scott was no more the Scott he had sodomized in that cave than he was the Henry who had sodomized him it was there in that spike of apprehension. That pheromone-drugged Scott hadn’t had the sense to be scared of an oversized cock in his virgin ass; this one was excited and scared in one inseparable twist of reaction.

As Henry seated himself at the head of the bed -- feeling more than a little kingly as Scott obligingly wriggled over onto his hands and knees and shyly reached out to touch his hardening cock -- Logan was getting supplies from Henry’s bathroom. It was strange to realize that he had gone on missions with the man so many times but was still surprised by the quiet efficiency with which he went about assembling the necessary accoutrements. 

Scott was shivering with excitement and a little apprehension but Henry suspected that, if he had been able to see his eyes, they would have been shining with anticipation. He definitely liked the role-playing aspect of submitting himself to Henry and being his to command -- Henry could smell that all over him and it was as amusing as it was touching. He wondered if Scott was secretly disappointed that Jean was not the type to tie him up and take him roughly with a solid heft of strap-on. Scott’s fingers curled around Henry’s shaft and he lapped at the weeping tip.

When Henry purred, “Good boy,” Scott gave another of those tight little shivers of subjugation. It was very arousing. So, was the heat of Scott’s sweet mouth on his cock.

Logan opened the wardrobe door so that the mirror on the inner door leaf was angled just right to let Henry see what was going on, gave a satisfied nod, and then climbed carefully onto the bed behind Scott. He was careful not to block Henry’s reflected view, even then, as he splayed his big hands over Scott’s taut little ass cheeks, spreading them so they could both admire the pink enticement of his hole. Henry shifted automatically at the sight of it and his cock firmed up in a way that made Scott give an admiring gasp. He sucked and mouthed at the swollen tip manfully and Henry breathed carefully around his lapping tongue and the sight of Logan bending to lick just as delicately at Scott’s soap-scented ass.

Scott jolted with the shock of that warm wet muscle probing inside him, giving another gasp. Henry purred, “Did you like that, Scotty…?”

“Yes,” Scott admitted. “Oh yes….”

Logan delved deeper, licking fiercely, and then raised his head to say in exasperation, “Is there anywhere you _don’t_ smother with soap, Summers?”

“Maddening, isn’t it?” Henry said. “He really does wash more thoroughly than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Logan kept at it, still bitching about the mouthful of soap he was getting, while Scott sucked and sucked at Henry’s cock, trying to take it deeper and being frustrated by the smallness of his own mouth and his inability to relax his throat. Logan slicked up a finger with lube, spread Scott’s ass cheeks with his left hand and slid it in. Scott gulped and tightened and Logan fingered him slowly, giving him time to get used to it, as he said conversationally, “Slim, ya’d have to be porn star to swallow that monster cock of Henry’s. Let me get you good and ready for him and ya can sit on it instead. Betcha’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”

Scott blushed exquisitely, and Henry pulled him up by the hair for a rough, demanding kiss that made Scott shudder with longing. Henry whispered in his ear, “Would you like that, Scott? Would you?”

Scott breathed, “Yes. God, yes….”

“How are you for real, Cyke?” Logan grinned. “Lookin’ like that and bein’ that way? Damn!” He began to fingerfuck him in earnest, Scott making small excited sounds in response. He pulled away from Logan’s digital manipulation to scramble into Henry’s lap, rubbing his hardening cock against Henry’s erect one, and Logan crawled along the bed after him, grumbling. “Ya keep fidgetin’ that little ass of yours, I’m gonna swat it.” At that jolt of reaction from Scott, Logan and Henry exchanged a smirk over his head.

“Damn, Slim,” Logan murmured. “If Hank could clone ya in his lab we’d all be billionaires.” He thrust two fingers in for punctuation and Scott gave a jolt of reaction, lips parted, spine flexing, shuddering breath slowly released, that had Logan and Henry both hardening and flushing in response. 

“Like that, do ya?” Logan reached up, grabbed a handful of Scott’s hair and dragged his head back as he drove his fingers in fiercely, then kissed him hard. Logan flashed a defiant look Henry’s way as he did so and Henry felt his own eyes flash gold in response. For a moment they gazed at one another and then Logan gave way, shame and arousal billowing off him, as he pushed Scott’s head down so that his mouth was over Henry’s cock. “Suck, Slim,” he said hoarsely. “I want Hank to feel it when you feel my cock sliding into you.” Logan issued directions on how Scott needed to take Henry’s balls into his mouth, lick up the underside of the shaft, tease the weeping tip with his tongue, and then relax his throat and take him as deep as he could. 

As Scott obeyed, Logan fondled his own cock, meeting Henry’s eye as he did so. “Ya givin’ me permission, yer Highness…?” he growled.

Henry smiled, breathing carefully as Scott’s licking and sucking sent the pleasure pulses shooting into his balls. “Be my guest.”

Logan leaned forward so his hard, hairy body was foursquare over Scott’s and breathed, “May have to hurt you a little, Slim, getting into ya. That okay with you?”

Scott nodded, swallowing hard with excitement. Logan pushed three fingers into him and Scott winced and arched into it, tongue flexing blindly before he collected himself and licked obediently up the underside of Henry’s shaft. Henry reached out a hand and stroked his hair encouragingly, feeling all too much like a monarch on his throne as Scott did his eager best to pleasure him. He held Logan’s eye. “Hurt him too much and I can’t answer for my actions.”

Ashamed and horny, Logan grunted, “Understood.”

Holding his cock in his right hand and spreading Scott’s ass cheeks with his left, Logan pushed the tip into him. Scott shuddered and breathed in hard. Logan stroked a hand down his back, then rubbed his thumb hard at the base of his spine, working it above his just-impaled hole like a massage. Logan said, “Good boy. Breathe out.” As Scott did so, Logan eased in another inch. Pain and excitement chased themselves over Scott’s chiseled features, as he savored every sensation. Logan said, “Breathe in.” Scott was a model of obedience and Logan pushed in another inch.

Closing his hand over Scott’s hair, Henry said, “Do you feel stretched and filled, Scott?”

Scott licked at Henry’s cock and said, “Yes.”

“Can you imagine how it’s going to feel when he slides the other five inches into you? Did you notice how thick it was at the base? You’re going to feel that going in, aren’t you?”

Scott made a choked little sound of excitement and did his best to take Henry down his throat. He was getting better at relaxing his gag reflex and breathing through his nose.

“Such an amenable boy,” Henry purred and nodded to Logan who pushed on in.

Scott’s body danced in repressed flexes and flinches as Henry watched Logan’s shaft sliding into him in the wardrobe mirror. It was a beautiful sight, that thick pole pushing its way in to Scott’s tightly clenching hole, Scott swallowing his cries on Henry’s cock, the pain-flickers that danced across his face were beautiful, as was the arch of his spine. Henry reached down and pulled his head back off his cock, and it came free with a deliciously pornographic sucking sound. “Tell me…?” he demanded.

Gasping, Scott said, “Hank…it hurts so _good_ ….”

Logan pushed on in with a groan and grabbed Scott’s hips, holding himself pressed in deep while Scott wailed and arched until Logan was seated as deeply as he could get. Breathing hard, Logan said, “Hank, ya wouldn’t believe how tight he is. It’s like having yer cock squeezed by warm velvet.” 

Purring, Henry said, “Logan’s going to fuck you now, Scott. He’s going to thrust his long, thick cock into that sweet, virgin ass of yours. As this room is soundproofed, you can make as much noise as you like. You can beg and moan and wail and sob if you want to, but Logan is only going to stop if I tell him to stop and I’m only going to tell him to stop if you use your safeword. Otherwise, however much you whimper, I’m going to tell him to keep fucking you, deep and hard. Understood?”

Even the words were enough to take Scott to the brink, he was so over-excited by their dual attentions that Logan had to quickly grab the base of his cock and squeeze it. “No you don’t, Slim,” he warned, grinning.

“It doesn’t matter if he comes,” Henry said, still majestically. “He’s still going to get that nice long hard fucking from you, Logan, but he’ll enjoy it more if he’s a good little Boy Scout and shows some self-control.” The last words carried a steely edge and Scott gasped and steadied his breathing and tried hard to obey. He clutched at Henry’s thighs like a supplicant, and Henry stroked his hair back from his face. “Do you want to come onto my lap, Scotty? Do you want me to cuddle you while Logan’s fucking you?”

Another breathless over-excited little gulp and then a jerky nod. Henry nodded to Logan, “Pull out a minute.” Logan gritted his teeth with the effort of control but eased out, straight and careful with another sucking sound that went straight to all their cocks.

Henry patted his chest and Scott scrambled onto his lap and pressed his ear against his breast, wanting to hear his heartbeat. Henry stroked his hair again, a few soothing strokes, and then reached behind him and fingered his slicked, open hole, displaying him to Logan like a prize. Scott made small sounds of pleasure, pushing back eagerly, and Henry fingered him deeper. “He really is tight as a drum, isn’t he?” He realized that Logan had been absolutely right to say that Henry should not have Scott first; he was frankly surprised that Logan had managed to push himself in there.

Scott pressed in against him harder, rubbing his cock against Henry as if the man was his personal scratching post, and Henry let him jerk against him, slipping his finger out so that Scott’s ass brushed over the tip of his cock. The feeling of its dancing over him, plowing a warm path through his ass cheeks and then skimming his perineum was deliciously tantalizing. Over-stimulated and over-excited, Scott flexed down disobediently, and Logan grabbed him by the hips just as Henry caught him under the thighs. Scott yelped as he realized how much bigger the head of Henry’s cock was than his opening was able to take as yet, and Henry said sternly, “That completely serves you right, Scott. If we hadn’t stopped you, you’d have a very sore ass right now. Which is what we’re going to give you in punishment. Logan…?” He nodded to him imperiously and Logan smacked Scott hard across the right butt cheek. Scott jolted, flinching, and then flinched again as Logan gave him another stinging slap across his left ass cheek.

“If ya knew how much I wanna put ya over my knee right now, Slim…” Logan growled. “Am I gonna have ter take my belt to ya? Get off Henry’s cock, ya little whore.”

Scott penitently scrambled to do so, pressing onto Henry’s lap and rubbing his head apologetically against his chest.

“Ought ter leather him,” Logan said, breathing hard, cock jutting up from its nest of hair, flushed and angry and oozing. It was a most impressive organ, curving up proudly like the prow of a sailing ship.

Henry ran a hand through Scott’s soft, chestnut hair and said, “Are we going to have to thrash you, Scotty? Is poor Logan going to have to wear himself out taking his belt to your rosy little buttocks?” The way Scott choked and squirmed and pressed in harder against Henry, rubbing his cock against him with an urgent little choked off wail, suggested that Scott was so over-excited by that prospect that he could barely restrain himself.

Henry grinned at Logan, “One hard crack of that belt and he’ll be coming like a steam train. I think, if you want to be inside him, when he comes, we had better save punishing him for later.”

“From now on, ya do as yer damned well told, Slim,” Logan said crossly. “We know what we’re doin’ and you don’t have a fuckin' clue. Ya can’t just shove anything ya fancy straight up yer tight little ass.” He took Scott by the hips, moved in close behind him and then gave a rough thrust. 

Scott wailed and squirmed ecstatically and Henry hastily grabbed the base of his cock and nodded to Logan. “I think you may dispense with finesse, Logan. A good hard, deep fucking, that’s what Scotty wants now, as basic as you like.”

Henry had never expected to find another alpha male’s pants of exertion so arousing but it was the sound of Logan rhythmic grunting with every balls-deep thrust that was making him strain with the best kind of discomfort; that and Scott squirming against him, whimpering needily as he jolted between pain and pleasure and pleasure and pain, clinging to Henry and sucking at his nipples and rubbing his eager body against his while Logan slammed into him, giving his ass the steady pounding it craved.

It was delicious how slim and smooth Scott looked, squirming between their hairy, big-bulked bodies. He was so leanly sculpted, the boyishness of his tiny waist and narrow hips offset by his nicely muscled shoulders and the hard ridges of his thoroughly adult flexing abdominal muscles. He winced ecstatically, head thrown back as his spine arched in response to Logan speeding up. Henry thought regretfully of his dream-Scott who had wanted to be coaxed and fondled and to whom Henry had been planning to show all that patient, gentle, selfless attention, and the one in reality -- who was clearly always going to crave being on the receiving end of walloping displays of dominance by alpha male beasts.

Logan gave Scott a good, hard fucking that gave the impression of being rapid and careless but that was actually measured and controlled, only Henry, perhaps, appreciating just how very careful Logan was being not to bruise Scott with his apparently brutal thrusts. Henry kept his fingers clamped either side of Scott’s urethra to hold the semen back and extend his pleasure -- which, going by all the wailing and squirming seemed to be intense. Logan’s rhythm was turning ragged and his eyes were getting a dazed look, his fingers clutching convulsively at Scott’s left hip, before Henry finally released his firm grip on Scott’s cock and let nature take its course. A last rough shove from Logan and Scott came screaming, while Logan came shuddering and groaning from his very depths. He nearly crushed Scott into the bed with his last heaving collapse and then quickly pulled out and said, panting and voice-wrecked, “Now, Hank, while he’s still coming….”

Henry needed no second invitation. He sprang behind Scott -- who collapsed, shoulders shaking, on the bed, reaching for a Henry who wasn’t still there with uncoordinated clawing grasps -- lifted up his hips, setting him on his knees with his ass raised and pushed steadily in. There were flashbacks to that other Henry with that other Scott, but the sensation was so different this time -- Scott so slicked and fucked open by Logan’s pathfinding, still warm and slippery with his semen. Henry realized that sometimes sloppy seconds were the best kind of feast as his cock slid in easily, Scott stretching wider to accommodate him with none of those sobbing slaveboy pain-whimpers, just a moan of pure unlooked for pleasure.

“Hank…” he gasped, awestruck and nothing but appreciative. “Oh Hank…you’re so… _big_.”

He and Logan exchanged a knowing look, suspecting that this current sensation mirrored perfectly those half-imagined and dimly craved in the past; Henry having become indeed the disproportionately oversized beast taking him and taking care of him that boy-Scott had subconsciously imagined as his rescuer and initiator in those far off captive days. He clearly associated size with magnificence and munificence; a noble proportion for a noble beast.

Henry fucked him slowly and carefully, not giving him the full length as yet, keeping his fingers supporting his narrow, bony hips, while trying not to think about a spiteful adolescent bully holding Scott down in the night, bruising him with a mean little cock that he pushed in unwanted, frustrated by its inadequacies as he shoved it in roughly for a few frenzied, rabbit-fast jerks before spurting hotly, always to be undone by his own underwhelming equipment and lack of self-control. He imagined the boy Scott bearing it stoically, probably disassociating as he thought instead of splendid quadrupeds in the wilderness who would one day sweep in, teeth bared, undo his abusers and carry him off.

Logan had wandered off to the bathroom where Henry was vaguely aware of him brushing his teeth -- not, he sincerely hoped with Henry’s toothbrush although he thought he had better throw it away just on the off chance that Logan hadn’t used Scott’s -- and then gargling with a mouthwash, before he re-emerged with Henry’s very good single malt in his hand and already being tipped down Logan’s throat.

“Do you mind?” Henry demanded.

“I brushed my teeth first,” Logan protested.

“Not really the point.”

Scott gave a low, abandoned whine, looking around for Logan needily.

“Okay, Scott…?” Henry prompted gently.

Scott nodded, fingers flexing on the coverlet, but it was clear that although he was loving Henry’s steady, slow thrusts, that he missed being able to curl in against him, still turning his head to look at Logan.

Logan said, “Demanding little fucker, ain’t ya, Cyke?” But he did clamber onto the bed and open his legs obligingly, patting his chest with an air of weary resignation, which fooled no one, so Scott could press in against him for hard kisses and hair strokes. Logan kept his fingers wrapped around Scott’s hair so he couldn’t start trying to cocksuck, lecturing him on things one didn’t and didn’t do and the order that one did them in when assfucking was concerned while Scott probably listened to none of it, too intent on rubbing against Logan’s chest hair and flexing back to meet Henry’s steady thrusts.

“Don’t take too long in there, Hank,” Logan warned as he played with Scott’s softening cock, fondling it casually, like a needy pet. “We don’t want Captain Tightass here walking funny for a week.” Scott made an inarticulate protest and Logan bent his head to murmur, “Ya know I’m right, Slim. Don’t be a greedy little bitch.”

Henry said, in between deep, measured thrusts that jolted Scott’s knees off the bed, “I will spend as long pleasuring myself in the welcoming constriction that is Scott’s magnificently stenotic back passage as I please, Logan. Afterwards, I may fuck you too. I’m in a lordly mood.”

“Fuckin’ unbearable is what mood yer in,” Logan retorted gruffly but he raised no objection, Henry noticed, to the prospect of being Hank-poled. Their pecking order had been established now to everyone’s mutual satisfaction, others might be added to it later but wherever they fitted in, Scott would most assuredly remain at the bottom and Henry -- magnificently -- at the top.

“What brought this on in any case?” Logan grunted, rubbing an expert thumb over Scott’s nipples in a way that made him squirm deliciously even as Henry shifted his angle so he could strike direct hits on his prostate. Scott, with his incredible physical fitness and youth on his side, was already getting hard just from being ass pounded and fondled by two masterful men.

Henry shifted his position again, eased out with a deliciously obscene sucking noise, spread Scott’s ass cheeks so he could admire the sight of that semen-slicked hot little hole and then shoved back in hard -- that won him an ecstatic keening wail. “Scotty here was missing Warren,” he said blandly. “Feeling bereft, he climbed naked into my bed. You can bear your share of the blame for having got him drunk first.”

Logan cocked his head to one side and gave Henry a meaningful look. “Warren, eh?”

Henry pulled all the way back and then slammed in hard -- another bulls-eye to the prostate, another squirming ecstatic wail. “Warren indeed. Always a team-player, in my experience, albeit one with a bad habit of picking Scott up and flying off with him so that he can play with Scotty by himself. That habit, I think, we would need to discourage.”

“Damned straight,” Logan growled possessively. He grabbed a handful of Scott’s hair and tugged his head back, looking down at his visor sternly. “Hey, Slim -- you missing Gambit, too?”

Scott nodded and Henry suspected that he was wide-eyed behind the visor, the very picture of innocence. He said, “Yes, Logan. I miss Remy too.”

Logan cocked his head thoughtfully. “Wouldn’t mind nailing Gumbo’s ass while he was nailing Cyke’s -- specially if Cyke was sucking off Wings while he was doin’ it.”

“And where would I be while this delightful spectacle was taking place?” Henry enquired, giving Scott another deep, prostate-thrilling thrust that earned him a grateful wail.

“Figured Wings would need a nice warm lap to sit in while he was getting that cocksucking from Cyke.”

Henry smiled. “You paint a very pleasant picture, Logan.” He could imagine Warren’s prim, unconvincing protests, and then his dignified submission; he could also imagine how good it would feel to have a lap full of white-winged Warren squirming on his cock while Scott deep-throated Warren eagerly and Gambit drove in hard and deep while taking those punishing thrusts from Logan. “I think you and I need to make that happen.”

“You ain’t a man that’s any too easy to resist right now, Hank,” Logan said wryly. “Reckon you tell Wings and Gumbo to get their asses over here for an orgy you felt like throwing, they’ll find their diaries free up just fine. It’s that king of the jungle roar.”

Henry gave Scott his full attention for a moment, giving him a good firm fucking that pounded his prostate perfectly without bruising his deliciously tight little ass. He was still holding back, concerned the thickness at the base of his shaft might stretch him painfully. Scott was rocking back to meet him eagerly, making strangled cries of pleasure, completely overwhelmed not only with orgasmic sensation but so much tactile attention, the unloved little orphan boy utterly reveling in being the center of their attention.

Logan’s thoughts seemed to be following similar lines. He rubbed Scott’s nipples with his thumbs and said, “Afterwards -- Slim gets to sleep in the middle. Wings and Gumbo only ever get the outside of the bed.”

“Agreed -- especially as they won’t care. I will, however, need to order a somewhat larger bed.”

“Tell Wings to get it fer ya as a birthday present,” Logan smirked. “He can have it made up special with reinforced springs -- I’m thinking it’s gonna need a _lotta_ reinforced springs.”

Henry rubbed his fingers soothingly down Scott’s back to steady him and bring him back down a little and said, “Now, Scotty. That naughty little trick you tried earlier…? Shall we give it another go with my permission?”

“Yes, please, Henry,” Scott said promptly.

Henry positioned himself with his back against the bedhead and then beckoned Scott to him. There was nothing that was not delightful about Scott scrambling across the bed with unseemly haste, lips parted in anticipation, smelling of eagerness.

“Ain’tcha never heard of playin’ hard to get, Slim?” Logan smirked.

“Scotty is far too much of a good boy to try to play games with you and me while naked, Logan,” Henry said, expression stern as he beckoned Scott forward. “Elsewhere he can be the stalwart leader as much as he likes, but in the bedroom he is always going to be a very obedient boy. Isn’t he, Scott?”

Scott said, “Yes, Henry,” with what were probably modestly lowered lashes behind the visor.

Henry continued ruthlessly, “Because Scotty knows that if he _was_ a naughty boy in the bedroom, he would be punished for it.”

Scott twanged like a guitar string, he was so thrilled by the prospect. He climbed onto Henry’s lap and burrowed into his neck, breath hot and excited as it gusted through Henry’s thick fur. “How would you and Logan punish me, Henry?” he breathed, voice catching with excitement.

Logan climbed onto the bed behind him. He grabbed Scott by the hair and pulled his head up roughly so he could kiss him, hard, forcing his tongue in as deep as it would go while Scott opened up to him obediently. He let him go and said huskily, “We’d spank yer ass for ya for starters. Spank it good an’ hard.”

Scott’s shivering reaction could hardly have betrayed less opposition. “What else?”

Logan pulled Scott’s arms behind his back and crossed his wrists, gripping them with his left hand, and breathing in his ear. “Tie ya up nice and tight.”

Henry lifted Scott by his leanly muscled thighs, while Logan, still holding Scott’s wrists in his left hand, wrapped his right arm around Scott’s hollow abdomen and helped to raise him. Very carefully, they positioned him over Henry’s cock, Scott gulping hard with unashamed arousal, his own cock straining and weeping with it.

Logan darted a look at Henry as he pressed his own bearded bristly cheek next to Scot’s smooth one and said, “But mostly we’d just fuck it out of ya.”

Scott’s tongue darted out to wet his sculpted lips. He said, “I am going to be so, so bad.”

“I’m not sure you’ve grasped the point of today’s lesson at all,” Henry scolded, trying not to smirk back at Logan who was smirking unashamedly at him.

Logan whispered, “You trust us, Cyke?”

Scott said, “Yes.” 

“We’re gonna lower ya onto Henry. Yer gonna relax that sweet little ass of yer’s and yer gonna slip down onto that fire hydrant of his as smooth as silk.” Scott nodded and Henry and Logan worked together, Henry holding him by the thighs, while Logan kept his arms behind his back and held him around the waist as they lowered him very gently to where Henry’s blue-skinned cock in all its newly leonine magnificence was jutting up hungrily. It seemed to be as eager to make contact as Scott was, standing proud as that sweet little hole was lowered onto it. They all sighed and then groaned in unison as Scott was slowly impaled, giving a gasping sigh of pleasure as he was inexorably filled by Henry’s thick length. His head fell back, his spine arched, his mouth opened and a needy moan of sheer pleasure broke from his lips. 

Henry said, “Careful, Scott -- don’t push all the way down.”

Scott said, “Yes, Henry,” and pushed all the way down with a shivering blissed-out wince. For a moment he just wailed at the sensation and Henry and Logan were both reaching out to snatch him off that clearly agonizingly ass-stretching torture cock when Scott raised himself up so he could push down eagerly onto it again, emitting another wail of pleasure. Henry was disconcertingly reminded of a boy on his first space hopper and hastened to catch Scott under the thighs before he could slam himself down the full too many inches once again.

“You,” he told him firmly, “are going to be spanked.”

“And how,” Logan growled, tightening his grip on his waist so he couldn’t wriggle himself back down onto Henry’s cock shaft.

Scott smirked at them unrepentantly. “Good.”

Henry enjoyed the way Logan looked to him and waited for Henry’s regal nod of permission, but he enjoyed even more the way -- having received it -- that Logan hauled Scott up, flipped him face down onto his lap, grabbed his hair in his left hand to keep him down and administered a series of hard fast slaps across Scott’s shapely ass with his rough right hand. Each slap rang out loud and true and Scott squirmed in what was clearly far too much enjoyment for this to be classified as punishment.

“I’ll make yer sorry, Slim…” Logan growled, redoubling his efforts. 

Henry let Logan give Scott a good spanking to their mutual satisfaction -- Logan’s cock was practically poking Scott off his lap by the time Logan paused, breathing hard, and palm stinging – his hand’s redness, of course, fading far more quickly than the rosy glow now lending warmth to Scott’s firm little buttocks. Then said calmly, “That’s enough, Logan. Scott, you very bad boy scout, come here and sit on my lap.”

Scott’s bowed head show of penitence was fooling absolutely no one, but he did climb onto Henry’s lap like someone who wanted to be petted and forgiven, which Henry was quite sure he did.

“You,” he said, giving him a rough two-digit finger fucking as he spoke, “are going to learn that not all punishments are pleasurable. For instance…” While still jabbing his fingers into him hard and fast, he outlined a few of them -- the cock ring that would stop him climaxing, the ball gag that would stop him cocksucking, however appetizingly Henry and Logan’s dicks swelled to attention, the knobbly, painful things any good sex shop would undoubtedly sell them to shove up his disobedient little ass until he was whimpering to have it taken out in earnest. “Not to mention that Logan and I could just take off on a road trip and not take you.”

That earned a whine of protest that did sound genuinely penitent. Still fingerfucking him, Henry continued sternly, “As we’ve established that you are not, in fact, a good boy at all, Scotty, nor even remotely obedient, but will only do as you are told if you are made to, Logan and I will have to be very strict with you indeed from now on. _Very_ strict with you.” It escaped no one’s attention, that Scott gave another little jolting shiver of arousal at that prospect. Henry waved a hand. “Logan go and wash your throbbing erection until it is clean enough to shove down Scott’s throat while I give him the good hard ass pounding that he so richly deserves. On your hands and knees, Scott. Now.”

Logan said, “Damn but it makes me hot when ya go the full Lion King, Hank.”

The alacrity with which Scott scrambled onto his hands and knees and presented his ass to Henry suggested that Logan was not the only one so affected. And if his taut high firm little butt had been enticing before, now that it bore the blushing marks of Logan’s spanking, it was doubly desirable. There was the briefest bad flashback to the cave and the animal he had been, but Henry dismissed it, took Scott by the hips and thrust in to the hilt. Scott wailed deliriously. Henry thrust again, just as deep, and Scott whimpered ecstatically with the pleasure of it. 

Henry fucked him majestically, each thrust leaving him squirming and whimpering and less coherent; being filled so deeply and stretched so wide blissing Scott out like really good drugs. Logan came into watch, toweling off his washed cock as he did so, now less erect but beautifully clean, clearly impressed, while Scott kept wailing and panting and clutching at the coverlet as he rocked back to meet Henry’s hard, deep thrusts.

“Talk about a bitch in heat…” Logan marveled.

“I thought I gave you an order,” Henry reminded him.

Logan gave him mocking salute but lost no time in obeying all the same, pushing his soft cock into Scott’s wailing mouth. Scott immediately dug his fingers into Logan’s hips and sucked eagerly, occasionally breaking off to wail again, before doing his best to swallow Logan to the root, only pulling back impatiently every now and then to hungrily mouth Logan’s balls and lick ardently at his perineum before flexing his mouth and throat back over his cock. Unsurprisingly, Logan went from mostly limp to achingly hard in about ten seconds.

“After you’ve taught our pupil how to cocksuck to degree level, you’re going to shoot your load down Scott’s throat, Logan,” Henry told him in a gravel voice that made both Logan and Scott shudder submissively. “And he’s going to swallow you down and beg you for more. Yes?”

Logan rasped out, “Yes.” His eyes were fogged with lust but he pumped his cock into Scott’s eager mouth like a champion. 

Henry was unashamedly enjoying giving Scott a good, honest ass pounding that was deep, hard and dominant but by no means brutal while Scott squirmed with pleasure, clung to Logan’s hips hard enough to leave bruises and shuddered between them, taking every inch of Logan and every inch of Henry with equal enthusiasm. 

Logan gasped out, “Henry…?” And it made them both hot that Logan felt he had to ask for his permission to come. On another day, Henry thought he just might force him to wait, but today he was feeling kind. He gave Logan a nod and increased the pace of his own thrusts until for a moment Scott was a pendulum jolting between them, his prostate so vigorously and accurately pounded that he began to convulse just as Logan came in his throat and Henry shot his load with a leonine roar so magnificent that it made the windows rattle.

They all collapsed onto the bed, panting, Scott’s whimpers of post-orgasmic ecstasy only becoming audible when Logan eased his limp cock out of his mouth -- Scott slurping after it, automatically, come trickling from the side of his mouth like ice cream. He was utterly limp himself and Henry needed a moment to regain his strength before he picked Scott up and pulled him in against his body. “Now, _there_ , you were a very good boy, Scott,” he said, and Scott wriggled in against him needily, rubbing his head against Henry’s chest.

“A nap, I think,” Henry said, slowly getting his breath back. He beckoned to Logan. “You too.” He peeled back the coverlet and they all crawled into bed, Scott curling in against Henry and almost asleep, but giving a twitch of pleasure when a hard-breathing Logan fondled his ass crack as he climbed under the covers next to him and then gave his butt cheek a fond smack. It escaped neither of their attention that Scott opened his legs automatically as he snuggled onto Henry so that if anyone should want to play with his dripping little hole, they could. As Henry slipped his index finger towards it from the right, Logan pushed his in from the left. They exchanged a smirk and then worked their fingers in together feeling the way everything was so hot, slick and still pulsing in there as Scott’s eagerly clenching little butt came down from its last pounding. They both pushed their finger in to the knuckle and Scott gave a soft sighing groan that sounded nothing like a protest.

“Boy’s insatiable,” Logan grunted.

“Just as well given the libidos of the men he is now going to be servicing,” Henry pointed out. They withdrew their fingers carefully but when Scott offered a whined protest, Henry said firmly, “That’s enough, Scott. No more nonsense.” He gave Scott’s ass a warning slap that made him yelp, wriggle, and snuggle in penitently, suitably chastened. 

Henry gave him a moment to learn his lesson and then planted a forgiving kiss in his hair. “You’re a very good boy, Scotty,” he told him quietly. “And Logan and I are both very pleased with you. You’re going to stay here with us where none of the other animals can hurt you and we’re going to keep you safe.”

As Logan looked on fondly, Scott gave a little sigh of contentment and drifted off to sleep while Henry stroked his hair gently and Scott rose and fell to the steady rhythm of his breathing; warm and safe on his great blue chest like a dreamer at peace on the waves.

 


End file.
